Five Nights at Freddy's-The Nightmare House
by Marimba Buddy
Summary: One month after the conclusion of The Fourth Closet, Charlie's friends still struggle to discover what happened to her and are beginning to lose hope that she will ever be found. Meanwhile, in Chicago, Sam Anderson is an aspiring musician haunted by forgotten memories and feelings of purposelessness in life when he and his best friend find themselves drawn into his haunted past.
1. The Calls

**A/N:** I've recently read Scott Cawthon and Kira Breed-Wrisley's _Five Nights at Freddy's_ novel trilogy, and while I thoroughly enjoyed how well the mystery and excitement of the game franchise were translated into a novel format and enjoyed reading through, I felt that the ending was a bit rushed and had too strong a sense of being a cliffhanger for what is supposed to be the end of the series, as far as I'm aware. So I have this idea in mind of how a fourth installment of this series might go.

**DISCLAIMER:** Copyright of the FNAF universe goes to Scott Cawthon, and this story, like all other fanfics, is the work of a fan and an aspiring writer of some sort. And as always, feedback is always welcome.

UPDATE (8/19/2020): This story was formerly called "Five Nights at Freddy's-A Brother's Bond." Although I kept the name for a while, it was originally intended to only be a placeholder until I came up with a more fitting story title, one that better matches the books. For those of you who've already read this story, nothing else has changed as of now.

* * *

She sat at her desk with her eyes glued on the drawing that sat in front of her. She worked as an artist, drawing whatever came to her mind. She always loved the creativity behind sketched artwork. It felt so natural to her. Ever since her first trip to an art gallery as a child, she fell in love with sketches. It was intriguing how something so skeletal in the eyes of some can be so detailed despite its simplicity. All that was needed afterward was just enough color to give it life. After a few years in art school, she became an artist, distributing her work wherever she could, which eventually led to the meeting of her husband. He had been wearing a simple suit, nothing too eloquent, but definitely formal, and he was eying one of her drawings very closely, one of a little girl with twin braids standing near a small stream. She told him that it was based on a childhood of hers, and smiled, telling her he loved it. The rest was history.

Now, many years later, she sat at her desk in her small Chicago apartment which, until the past year, had been home to her son as well. She was working on a new sketch, very similar to the one that had grabbed her husband's attention. She'd done so many other works over the years, from nature to urban life, but it never hurt to go back to the basics. The small girl was standing in front of a small shed carrying a teddy bear and wearing a dress that came down to her knees. She wasn't sure what color to make the dress yet. Maybe yellow, or lime green.

She was just about to put the finishing touches on one of the eyes when the phone came blaring through the silence. Sighing, she picked it up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Good morning. Is this Miss Hannah Anderson?" a calm voice asked from the other end of the line.

"Yes it is," she answered. His voice was calm and he seemed welcoming. Maybe it was another interested customer. "May I ask who's calling?"

He identified himself and his occupation, and her heart dropped, the phone almost going with it had her grip not become vice-like.

"I'm not interested," she said immediately.

"Please hear me out, ma'am," the voice pleaded.

"I'm not married," she retorted, the sensitivity of the topic very evident in her voice.

"Of course," the man said kindly. "I've been up for quite a while trying to find the right number. Forgive me, but…" He broke off and sighed heavily. It sounded like he was holding back tears, which added to her suspicions. "It's your daughter. She's...she's gone missing. She's been missing for a month and we've been trying to find her, but there's just no trace of her. As sad as it is, I'm afraid it looks as if she's gone."

Hannah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes clamped shut. She made a few grunts of distress, as if trying to say something but couldn't get the words out properly. She hoped that this reaction went unnoticed to no avail.

"Miss Anderson?" the man asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, her face shaking, her eyes still clenched. "Listen, I'm afraid you have the wrong number. That...that's not my daughter you're speaking of."

"Are you sure? I've really been digging through records for the last two weeks, and it looks like-"

"Yes, I'm sure!" she said quickly. "Listen, you...you don't understand. We-I don't have a daughter."

Silence filled the air, and she could tell that the gears were turning in her confused caller's mind. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted no part of it.

"How long have you lived in Chicago?" he finally asked.

"We've lived here for sixteen years."

"We?" the man asked.

"Yes, me and my son," she answered uncomfortably.

Another small pause, followed by what she was sure was him thinking aloud: "She lives with her son."

"Listen, I'm sorry to disappoint you," she told him, "but I'm afraid I can't help you. I have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," he said. "I apologize for taking up your time. Have a good day."

Before she could respond, the line went dead. She hung up the phone and tried returning to her work, but all that ran through her mind were his words.

_"It's your daughter...she's gone missing."_

She shuddered, forcing her eyes onto the paper before her, but the usual euphoric feelings that always filled her during her work was now replaced with a sinking sense of dread. The girl on the paper didn't seem the same innocent girl she was only minutes ago. She looked...different. Especially the eyes, temporarily colored only with the lead of the pencil.

_Those silver eyes. _

That was it. She threw her pencil down and sat back in her chair, her face buried in her hands and tears coming from her eyes.

He'd done it. She'd called him crazy when he had first begun, and tried desperately to make him see reason. When he didn't, but instead kept to his obsessive work, she knew that it was time to go. Their son asked many questions on their way out, being too young to understand, but she only said they were leaving for a while. That, of course, really meant permanently. There was nothing left for either of them. All she could think to do was get away and start somewhere else, somewhere she and her son could both live the rest of their lives in peace, burying themselves in creative things to do, and never go back.

But now, over fifteen years later, that past had finally caught up with her, and from the sound of it, her ex-husband may have done what he meant to do. She shook her head and got up to grab herself a drink from the fridge. Her proposal wasn't due for a few days, so it could wait. She usually wasn't a drinker, but today was definitely a day for a few bottles.

* * *

On the other end of the line, the caller put his phone down and sat back in his chair, exhaling loudly. He'd been going out of his way, trying to track her down, for a month, and after all that time and effort, he thought he'd finally be rewarded for his labors. But now, it seemed he hit another wall. It didn't make sense. He had spent more time than he could remember running through her husband's history and, with some help from some of his reliable sources, finally tracked down who had to be her in Chicago, and now all of that work seemed to be for nothing.

He rested his face down in his hands and groaned. He was tired. As much as his adrenaline and determination had kept him going the past month, he felt very drained, especially with everything that had happened the last month. Or really, it was the last year and a half that things had gotten crazy again after a decade of relatively smooth sailing.

There was a knock at the door. "Sir?"

He looked up to see a woman, his dispatch officer, holding a cup of coffee.

"Would you like a cup?"

"Thanks, Norah," he said, taking it from her. She glanced down at his cluttered desk.

"Ok, seriously, are you alright? What's all this about?"

"Probably nothing," he sighed.

"If it's nothing, you wouldn't be working so hard," she retorted.

He said nothing, only stared down at the bubbles that remained along the inner edge of his cup.

"I know what this is about," she said, and he looked up at her, his face looking like it had aged ten years. "This is about her. The girl you've been trying to find. Look, I know with everything that's been happening, you want to do whatever you can to clean up the mess and find everyone who's missing, but there's only so much you can do, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he groaned. "I just wanted to see if I could reach out to other sources." He still wasn't sure about telling anyone else the whole truth yet. They didn't need to know. "Besides, I think I may have hit a dead end."

"It's alright, chief," she told him. "You did your best."

"Thanks, Norah," he said, smiling at her. She returned it and began walking toward the door.

"Oh, by the way," she said on the way out. "Your son called. He wants to know if you can pick up his medication on the way home. He's about out again."

"Thank you, I will," he responded, grabbing his coat and getting out of his chair. As he walked toward the door, he stopped, mind flashing back to a certain detail from his long-distance phone call.

_She has a son. Charlie's brother._ He smiled. Maybe it wasn't a dead-end yet after all, and maybe he should consider taking some much-needed vacation time.

* * *

_One Week Later..._

Sam Anderson parked his car, a 1986 silver Toyota in decent condition, outside the studio. It wasn't the biggest or the fanciest, but it was more than enough for his purposes. He got out and walked around to the back. In the trunk was the first guitar that his mother had given him for his eighth birthday after he told her he wanted to be a musician. It was a red and white fender, too big during his first attempt to play it but almost too small now.

"_Happy birthday, Sam," she told him with a smile as he gazed at it fresh out of the wrapping._

"_Wow!" he said, admiring the instrument that lay before him. "Thanks, Mommy!"_

"_You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, pulling him into a hug and kissing his forehead._

"_Can I start playing it right now?" he asked her._

"_Not right now," she told him sweetly, "but maybe when you're older. I'll see if we can get you in for some lessons on something smaller first."_

"_Thanks, Mom!" he said, hugging her again._

"_You're welcome," she said again. "Just promise me you'll be very careful with it. It's very expensive, you know."_

He picked up the case and headed inside.

As soon as the door opened, an all-too-familiar voice rang from down the hall.

"Is that Sam the man?"

Sam scoffed as he walked down the hall into the room in which the rest of his band were gathered. Before even beginning to look around to see who else was here, the owner of the voice jumped up came over and held out his hand. Sam put down his case and met the gesture.

"How's it going, man?"

"Pretty good. Sorry I'm late. That string took a lot longer to get put on and traffic was kind of bad with the weather and all."

"No sweat. We didn't really come up with anything spectacular yet anyway, aside from Eric showing us hs next big thing of extending eight beats to ten."

Sam laughed and set his case down and began unpacking it as Kyle continued going on about the uneventful proceedings up to that point. Kyle Jackson had been his best friend for almost fifteen years. In 1983, he and his mother moved from their home in New Harmony, Utah after a sudden burst of arguing between his parents. He didn't remember much, only that it had started immediately after Halloween. He wished he could remember more, but that entire time was a blur. After a few months, he and his mother moved to Chicago. It was a big change for them both, particularly for him, since even in his first few years of life, he only knew life in a small town. Living in a big city with buildings touching the sky and people everywhere was overwhelming at first, but he was able to get used to it after a few months as his curiosity and excitement took over. His mother, who wanted nothing more than forget about their past and bury herself in creative works, often took Sam to numerous art galleries and shows around the city. Whatever she could afford on the limited money she had left after leaving. Anything to completely forget about the past. Sam liked the city and knew he would grow to like it as time went on, but he struggled to make friends. He was a very playful child, but something was always missing whenever he tried to make friends. He never knew why, but he always felt that the connection between himself and other kids wasn't strong enough for a deep friendship. As much as he wanted to make friends, he also wanted to find the right friends, people with whom he could connect with at a deeper level to fill the awkward and mysterious void left by his early childhood, but had no luck for a few years.

And then in first grade, he met Kyle Jackson. Given his love for music and singing, he decided he wanted to join his elementary school's choir. The memory of that first day was crystal clear.

_He sat silently amongst his chattering classmates talking about which teacher was worse and who had the better toys growing up. He almost wanted to join in on a conversation, but he instead began thinking about the ensemble. He was excited. He loved music, and he loved singing. He sang all the time at home, and it always put a smile on his mother's face as she told him that he would do great things with his voice one day. He was busy imagining himself leading a band when he felt a tap on his shoulder. To his left was a young boy, dark brown hair and a few freckles on his face, looking at him intently, as if studying his face. Sam wasn't sure whether to be annoyed, confused, or a little of both. After a few moments of silence, the boy spoke._

_"You think we're gonna see some gray today?"_

_Sam stared blankly into his serious eyes, wondering what the right response was if there was any._

_ "Huh?"_

_The boy didn't move and his face remained unchanged._

_ "It's how my dad talks. He's a pilot. He says that a lot when he wants to know if the weather's gonna be bad."_

_"Oh," said Sam, looking out the window. "I don't know. It looks sunny out now."_

_ "Yeah, I know," the boy said, "but I wasn't talking about the weather. My dad says it all the time, even when he's not flying. I meant the choir teacher. I heard she uses a lot of perfume and it smells weird."_

_ "Oh," Sam said again. "I don't know. I haven't heard that."_

_"Yeah, someone in my class said that she wears this rose perfume, but she puts so much on that it makes you sneeze if you get too close to her. He says she smells more like a skunk cabbage than a rose."_

_He gave a small laugh, and Sam looked back into his blue eyes as they continued studying him. As silence fell between the two again, the thought of their choir director giving off such a foul fragrance and not being aware of it did have a humorous vibe to it._

_ "Yeah, I guess," said Sam. "Maybe she should try dressing up like a skunk on Halloween so people know not to get too close."_

_ The boy laughed, a loud, high-pitched noise that turned many heads over to them. It was an interesting laugh, almost like a mix between a hyena's and an overly self-confident comedian's. _

_ "Now _that _is funny!" he said. "I like you. You're funny. I'm Kyle. Kyle Jackson." He smiled and held out his hand._

_Sam returned the smile. There was certainly something different about him. He wasn't like the other kids he knew. His personality was odd, but no one else had ever been so keen to talk to him. He took his hand and shook it just like he saw his mom do when meeting with someone for work._

_"Nice to meet you, Kyle. My name's Sam Anderson."_

As the school year passed, the two found themselves becoming almost inseparable. They always found time during lunch and recess to talk and play with one another. Kyle took great delight in someone actually laughing at his jokes, and Sam felt an odd sense of satisfaction of having someone his age to talk to, after an incident he couldn't clearly remember left him alone with his hard-working mother. Before long, their parents became introduced to one another. Kyle's parents immediately took a great liking to Sam and his youthful energy and made the compliment to his mother. Hannah found her son's new best friend to be a bit odd as well, but she too felt more at ease that Sam was finally making friends. The two had many playdates at each other's house, and it was there that Sam learned more about his new friend.

Kyle was the only son of two pilots and the wealthy co-owners of Jackson Air Services, a company dedicated to providing tourists with air transportation and scenery tours in and around the Chicago area. Given their dedication to their business, they hadn't planned on having children for a while, but despite protection, their son Kyle was still born. Although he was the unplanned child of a rather wealthy couple, he still grew up to have a relatively normal, if not slightly recluse, childhood. Like Sam, he was willing to talk to people if they were willing to talk back, but he always found himself isolated by the other children teasing him for his unnatural almost-bushy brown hair. Between this and his parents doing what they felt they could to love and support the son they hadn't expected, he shared Sam's poor luck in making friends prior to that fateful day in the choir.

A loud note from the bass brought Sam back to reality with a small jerk.

"A little louder next time, Larry. We're not awake yet," said Adam rubbing his temple.

"Anyway, so we've been thinking," Kyle began, holding up both index fingers in a proposing manner, "that for our next show, we should try something a little different."

"What do you mean by that?" Sam asked, tuning his new string.

"Well, Eric and I have been talking, and we think-"

"You think? Wow, that's a first," Adam teased as he adjusted his soprano sax reed.

"Shut up. We think we should try something a little more hardcore."

Sam looked up at him, staring directly into his eyes, vainly trying once more to understand the intention behind the words.

"What do you mean 'hard'?"

"I mean more rock-type stuff."

"We've done newer rock songs before," Sam reminded him. "Remember last week at open mic night? When we played some Bon Jovi and Van Halen?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to try something a little different than the same-old-same-old."

"Getting tired of classic rock and jazz?" James asked as he lent Sam one of his tuners.

"No, I love them both," Kyle protested, "but think about it: right now we've been playing the same stuff for the same groups of people for almost six months! Don't get me wrong, I like the stuff, but don't you think we should try a different approach sometime? More than just the usual?"

James nodded. "You know what? I agree. I think it'll be fun. Maybe it'll surprise some people and we'll get more gigs."

"Yeah," said Larry. "As long as Kyle doesn't miss too many notes and Eric doesn't lead us astray with another one of his funky beats, I think we it'll be cool."

"I'm still working on it," Eric insisted. "Come on, like Kyle said, it gets boring doing the same thing over and over. It's like a bunch of marchers marching to the same beat, you know?"

He began playing a simple beat on the snare drum, imitating a drumline's timekeeping.

They all laughed as they imagined themselves marching around a stage in uniform. Kyle hopped behind his keyboard and began to add a familiar melody, the march of "Les Toreadors."

As Sam sat keeping time with his foot while moving from side to side, he thought back to middle school when he heard the sixth grade band play this for the first time. He remembered it clearly: the white dress shirts and ties, the short black skirts, the band director moving his baton systematically while dancing.

_Wait, he wasn't dancing...was he?_

He was certain he was dancing, wearing a yellow suit with a bow tie that shone in the lights while his head moved from side to side, singing into his baton like a microphone. Or maybe it was a microphone.

It didn't add up. He always prided himself on his ability to remember memories in vivid detail. Why was he suddenly struggling with this particular memory? It just didn't make any sense at all. He remembered sitting in the audience with his mother after his portion of the show with the choir had ended. Being music lovers, they always enjoyed staying for the night's later acts. He remembered looking up at his mother's tear-filled eyes. That was weird. She loved 19th-century music.

"_Sam! Sammy!"_

Her voice was panicked and shrill, but he didn't remember her mouth ever opening for the entire duration of the performance.

"_Sammy, darling. Where are you?" _

_I'm here!_ He found himself wanting to shout back. _I'm right next to you! What's the matter with you, Mom?!_

"_Sam, come to Mommy! Sam!"_

"SAM!"

With another small jerk, Sam turned. Kyle and Eric had both stopped, and five pairs of eyes were fixated on him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"We were wondering what you thought of Kyle's idea," said Eric.

Silence fell again. This was the guy who always listened to others ramble on about the same types of music, going on for what felt like hours before holding up his hand calmly and giving his own opinion in a very sophisticated-like manner, sometimes as a means of subtly telling them that they were behaving like over-excited children. And he was never short of his own opinions on things. Ever since they formed the band nearly a year ago, he always told them plainly what was on his mind when it came to music. The silence wasn't like him.

After a few more seconds, Sam finally opened his mouth.

"Sure."

Eric and Larry glanced at each other, while James threw up his arms in cluelessness. Kyle looked like he was staring directly into his soul, his eyes searching for an answer to the question he didn't know had been asked.

"Let me get this straight," Adam said, as his and the others' joking attitudes quickly subsided. "You don't have any input? Just...nothing at all to say?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really. I suppose we could try some new stuff. Keep things from getting a little boring."

The other four looked each other and shrugged along with him as if to say "All right, then," but Kyle's face didn't falter. It remained locked on him for a few moments before they finally settled on playing.

Despite some mild arguing here and there, the rest of the night's rehearsal had been routine, save for Sam's quietness, which continued to draw concerned looks from Kyle as the night progressed. Finally, after focusing on five new songs to premiere at their next gig, they called it a night. Sam quickly packed his guitar and left the building without saying a word, giving a brief "See ya" in response to Eric's farewell.

"Is he ok?" Adam asked.

Kyle shook his head.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna try and find out."

* * *

Sam waved in apology as the driver whom he unknowingly cut off blared his horn. Despite living in the outskirts of downtown Chicago for most of his life, he was still amazed by how easy it was to not pay attention to traffic sometimes. It had started to rain as the orange glow of the sunset took cover behind a thick layer of dark blue clouds.

_April showers, right?_ he thought as he flicked the switch a few times before successfully getting the windshield wipers to activate.

"_Hold old is it?"_ he had asked his mother when she gave it to him for his eighteenth birthday.

_"It doesn't matter, honey. It's how well you take care of it."_

_Oh, Mom. _He knew they never had a lot of money. While his mother wasn't a starving artist, doing well enough to pay the bills and keep herself busy in her work, they were far from rich. Although his car's antics annoyed him from time-to-time, he did try not to complain too much. It was both the money issue and his love for music that led him to decide against going to college. Despite doing fairly well throughout school and being accepted into the few universities he had applied to, something within told him that it wasn't worth it. _Who needs to pay for college when you can have fun playing with friends?_ Indeed it had started off fun, but Kyle's opinion from earlier seemed to nag at him increasingly the more he thought about it. _Is there really a future for us like this? Something beyond just playing other people's music at countless gigs for forty years?_

He drove up to his and Kyle's apartment complex and exited the car. The rain was coming down heavier now as a roll of thunder echoed from the west. The wind beat against his face as he fought against it to open his car door. He hurriedly opened his trunk and pulled his guitar out before running inside.

"Hey Chester," he said to the man behind the desk, who merely glanced up and nodded at his presence.

He pressed the elevator button and the doors opened almost immediately.

_Good_, he thought. He didn't know why, but tonight had drained him of his energy. He was used to long days given his daytime job as a laborer. It wasn't great, helping to carry heavy objects and driving truckloads of equipment from place to place, but it paid his portion of the bills for the time being. It also helped that Kyle, who had a piloting license and occasionally accepted small jobs for his parents, often offered to let Sam tag along as his co-pilot. It was there that he got to experience the joys of the air firsthand and learn how small planes worked.

As the elevator doors opened on his floor, he walked through the hall. As he approached his door, something odd struck him.

"That's weird," he said out loud. "Usually Brian's got his music up this late. Wonder what he's up to tonight?"

He reached the door to his apartment and began fumbling for the key.

_Sammy!_

He stopped and turned around, only to find no one there. He looked down the length of the hallway, both ways, and saw no one.

"What the-?"

It was a child's voice. That didn't make sense. He knew no children in this entire building, not to mention that no one except his mother (and later Kyle, thanks to her) ever called him Sammy.

_Sammy!_

It came again, only this time both louder and more distant. It became clear to him that it must be in his mind. What was going on?

_Sammy, help!_ the voice cried again, more shrill.

"It's ok," Sam said out loud, and then stopped himself. Who was he even talking to? There was no one here. Who was he trying to help?

And then he noticed it. The janitor's closet a few feet away was cracked open slightly. Again, a bit weird, because old man Humphrey always closed and locked it when he wasn't using it after some teenagers broke in and TP'd the entire hallway, giving him some unwanted overtime.

Sam cautiously took a step toward the open door, whispering to himself that it was only a closet. Why worry?

_A closet full of darkness_, a voice inside him said.

_But you're used to the darkness_, another answered.

_It's not just the darkness_, the first retorted. _It's what's in there. Dead things, damp air, furry jackets…_

_Who cares? Why are you so afraid?_

Before he knew it, he had his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly before inching the door open. It was just how he imagined it, a mop bucket with spray bottles and shelves full of paper towels and cleaning supplies. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, a firm hand grasped his shoulder. He screamed and turned around, expecting to see two dead eyes towering over him, only to find old man Humphry himself, glaring at him.

"So you're the little punk who's been messing with my equipment."

"N-no," he stammered, as the man's gray eyes narrowed. "I was just-"

"Snooping around. I can have you arrested for this, you know."

"It's ok," a voice from behind him said. He turned to find Kyle standing there. "He's a good kid. His mom said she'd skin him alive and feed him to the opossums if he ever misbehaved."

The old man's eyes narrowed in confusion, and Sam couldn't blame him. That was a new one, but what was so intimidating about an opossum? Well, that was Kyle and his sense of humor. Always trying to lighten the mood, even if what he said didn't exactly make sense.

Finally, the old man grunted. "Just stay outta this closet, you boys hear?"

They nodded and began walking away as the old man began checking for anything missing.

"Thanks for that," Sam said. Kyle held up his hand in acknowledgment.

"I figured you'd need a knight in shining armor," he said, earning a punch in the shoulder from Sam.

"An awkward knight in shining armor," Sam laughed. "Opossum?"

"First thing that came to mind," Kyle shrugged. "I wanted to say wolf, but there aren't that many in this area. Besides, it's not like your mother wouldn't threaten to do it."

"Yeah, whatever, hero," he said, walking back to their apartment door.

"What were you doing anyway, Sam? Snooping around? I thought you hated closets."

"I do," Sam insisted, trying to think of something believable on the spot. "I just saw the door open, and-"

He trailed off, hoping Kyle would accept his story and drop it, but he kept waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Kyle took the chance.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" Sam asked, opening their door and letting them both in.

"You know what," Kyle responded coolly. "What happened back there?"

"We just talked about that," Sam said, closing the door irritatedly.

"No, at rehearsal. What happened?"

"I don't know," said Sam. "I guess I'm a little tired."

Kyle stood watching his friend intently, his eyes never looking away. It was a look that Sam wasn't used to from his friend and was quickly growing un-fond of. _Kyle's never been the interrogative type._

"Sam, I've seen you tired before when you move slowly with that drunk look in your eyes. This was different. You looked like you'd seen a ghost, or were trying to remember something but couldn't. You just kept staring at the wall. What was that all about?"

Sam said nothing, pondering his answer.

"And then," Kyle continued, not waiting for an answer, "when you finally say something, you just agree with what I said with no arguments. What happened to all your confident and sarcastic comments? Like when I said we should try wearing bright yellow shirts and invest in some lights to attract more attention to our shows and you told me that we should focus more on the music?"

Sam chuckled. While it wasn't necessarily a bad idea, the way Kyle had originally suggested it was a bit stupid. Going through a momentary panic that they weren't doing well enough with their audience size, he'd said that they needed to be more noticeable from miles away if they were playing at night, to which Sam had told him not to worry and that if they really could be seen from that far away, they could attract 747's in for an emergency landing.

"Yeah, I remember," he said.

"So, what's up, then?" Kyle asked.

Sam sighed. "I dunno, man. I just...feel that…"

He trailed off, setting his guitar down on the floor and plopping down onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling resting his head on the arm. Kyle set his own keyboard case down and sat down in one of the nearby chairs, debating on whether or not to make a therapy joke before deciding to let it go.

"Kyle," said Sam after a few moments of silence, "do you ever wonder about the future?"

Kyle looked bewildered for a quick second, before cracking a smile. "Yeah. How can I forget? Two awkward young men who've never had any luck with the ladies, growing old together with nothing to do but stare out a window arguing about cloud shapes."

Sam snorted. "I'm serious."

"Yeah, I know. Just trying to lighten the mood," Kyle said. "No, I have actually been thinking about that too. You mean with the band?"

"Yeah, with the band," Sam said. "You remember my mom encouraging me to go to college and make something out of my life, right? Something even better than what she had?"

Kyle nodded. "And my parents still want me to take over the business someday, flying planes for lots of rich people."

"And what did we tell them?" Sam asked.

"That we're musicians," Kyle said, holding up his hands in a visualizing manner. "We live to play and sing. It's our destiny, and we want to follow it no matter what."

"Right. Well...do you ever feel like we maybe...made a mistake?"

Kyle said nothing.

"Not about wanting to play in a band, but about giving up our parents' dreams?" Sam continued. "I mean, we've been doing this for months now and we haven't taken off really yet. Sure, we've got a few of our own songs we've worked on but haven't released yet, but aside from that, it's just playing the same old gigs like we always have, like you were saying. You feel like we're pursuing a dead end?"

Their eyes locked and studied each other in silence. It was a bit of a bold move on Sam's part, but Kyle's earlier suggestion had been nagging at him ever since, along with whatever else was going on inside his mind. Despite their best efforts, it still seemed like there was nothing long-term being done. Kyle, being a jazz and R&B enthusiast, had a few of his own works he'd been putting together. Sam also had a few of his own that he'd worked on, one of which was his first attempt at a love song he wrote for a girl he liked when he was fourteen, but when she showed her desire only for the more popular boys, he practically left it behind and forgot about it. After months of playing popular songs in clubs and restaurants, they still had yet to do anything worthwhile with their music. No matter who they played for or what they played, something was still missing.

"Yeah," Kyle said, finally breaking the silence. "I hear you. To be honest, that's why I brought it up today. I'm starting to wonder that myself. It's kind of like we have no real purpose. We're just trying to have fun, but nothing's really happening."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, it's fun, but something's missing. I don't know what, but it feels like-"

A loud knocking at their door interrupted him. They both turned toward the door, and the knocking continued. They glanced at each other, both wondering the same thing.

_Who is that?_

They never got visitors aside from their parents and occasionally one of their bandmates, all of whom had a distinct-sounding knock, and this didn't match anything they'd heard. Curiously, Sam got off the couch and crossed the room, glancing through the peephole before cracking the door open slightly.

Standing in the doorway was a man, dressed in a black jacket and white undershirt with blue jeans. He was tall with gray hair and a commanding look, but a welcoming face embellished by a large smile.

"Good evening," Sam told him. "May I help you?"

"Good evening," the man responded back. "Forgive me for the lateness of the hour, but I'm looking for Sam Anderson."

"That's me," said Sam, and the man's eyes lit up in excitement. "Can I help you?"

"Oh good!" he said, clapping his hands against his thighs, clearly relieved. "I'm sorry. I spoke to your mother Hannah last week, but she seemed a little flustered and wasn't keen on giving me any help. Unfortunately, what I need to talk about is too important, so I figured it would be better to be present for a face-to-face before I tried again."

"And who am I speaking to, exactly?" Sam asked, growing a little concerned.

"Oh, forgive me! It has been a long couple of weeks. Makes sense you're confused, I guess." He gave a small laugh and pulled a badge out of his pocket. "My name is Clay Burke. I'm the chief of police in Hurricane, Utah."

* * *

**A/N:** What do you think of the story so far? Leave a review to let me know!


	2. The Invitation

For a few seconds, everyone stood perfectly still. Kyle had gotten up and was standing a few feet behind Sam. Sam continued staring at this man whom he'd never seen before.

Clay couldn't blame them for being speechless. It was a leap of faith, traveling to Chicago and arriving unannounced at the apartment of Charlie's long lost brother. In fact, he, too, couldn't help but take a moment to study the face of the young man before him. He was the splitting image of his sister, only with short hair. His clothes, though more representative of city life, were similar as well: black T-shirt and jeans with red tennis shoes. Clay also noticed the five o-clock shadow, which also gave off a reflection of his deceased father, Henry.

Deciding to finally break the silence, Clay cleared his throat. "Don't worry. You boys aren't in trouble for anything. I'm here for...other reasons." His smile faltered slightly when he said this.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What reasons would those be? And how do you know my mother, exactly?"

Clay sighed. "May I please come in? I promise I'll explain everything as best I can."

Sam shook his head in bewilderment, but before he could say anything, Clay continued.

"Please, it's important. I know this is a little awkward seeing as we've never met, but you and your mother are the only people I can talk to about this and your mother's already shut me out when I called her. Please, it may be a matter of life and death."

Still tempted to decline, Sam studied the man's face. Growing up in Chicago, he'd seen numerous people being taken into custody, both on the news and on the street. While people in this city came in many different shapes and sizes, one thing that was common was that the ones who were doing something wrong could only go so far to hide it. He'd once heard one of his high school teachers say that a person's actions are manifestations of the heart and mind, and if you followed someone around long enough, you'd discover many things about their personality that they would go to great lengths to hide in conversation. A drunk man getting a DUI proved his guilt with his talk and smell, and a stalker could never keep their eyes to themselves for more than five minutes. This man, on the other hand, didn't give off any suspicious signals, at least not yet.

Finally, Sam relented. "Sure."

Clay nodded and stepped slowly into the apartment, removing his shoes near the door and walking past them into the living room. As Sam shut the door, Kyle approached him.

"What are you doing? We don't know him, and you just let him in! How do we even know we can trust him?"

Sam pondered his answer. To be honest, he wasn't exactly sure why he was going along for the ride either, but something about this man seemed innocent enough. Might as well hear him out.

"Relax. Let's just listen to what he has to say."

Kyle still looked wary. "Are you sure? What if he 's not who he says he is and tries to start something? You know as well as I do how much of a chance we'd stand in a fight."

Sam winced, not wanting to think about the memory. "Yeah, I know, but why would someone actually travel across the country like that if it weren't serious, at least to them? Scammers would try to phone, wouldn't they?"

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Alright, we'll listen to him, but I'm not letting my guard down just yet."

"You don't have to," Sam assured him as the two of them followed Clay into the living room. They found him looking at some of the pictures on the shelves. Sam cleared his throat and Clay turned.

"Sorry," he said, gesturing to the photos. "I just-I was always curious what she looked like, her mother. _Your_ mother."

"Riiight," said Sam. "Um, you said you talked to my mother?"

"Yes, over the phone last week," said Clay. "She seemed a bit on edge to talk to me."

"Why's that?" Kyle asked.

"To be honest, I'm not sure," said Clay, turning to him.

"Oh, yes," said Sam. "Um, Mr.-?"

"Burke. Clay Burke."

"Right. Mr. Burke."

"Please, call me Clay. I'm not on duty."

"Ok. Clay, this is my roommate Kyle Jackson."

"Pleasure," said Clay, extending a hand. Kyle took it and shook it, taking note of the firm grip he had. "I noticed you two are in quite a lot of these pictures. Friends?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Since grade school."

Clay nodded. "My son had a best friend like that, but-" He trailed off, closing his eyes.

"But what?" Kyle asked.

Clay sighed. "Well, that's part of what I want to talk to you about. Sit down."

The two sat down on the couch. Clay sat across from them in a chair.

_This feels like a police interrogation_, Sam thought as he watched Clay pull a piece of paper out of a briefcase they hadn't noticed earlier. He put it on the table between them and slid it toward them. It was a missing person report. On it was the face of a teenager their age, with long dark hair, a round face, and a mouth that appeared to be smiling even though she was not.

"Dude, she looks kind of like you," Kyle whispered.

Sam shook his head. Beneath the image was the name CHARLOTTE EMILY. They looked up at Clay, who sat silently watching them.

"What is this?" Sam asked.

"This…" said Clay, pointing down at the mugshot of the girl, "...is your twin sister, Sam."

Sam and Kyle looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Sam wanted to protest, but couldn't find the words. He secretly hoped Kyle would say something for him, help voice his thoughts for him, but Kyle was just as much at a loss for words. Clay continued watching them wordlessly, letting the information sink in.

Finally, Kyle broke the silence.

"You never told me you had a sister, Sam."

Sam stared down at the face, his mind lost in a fog. He'd lived in Chicago as far back as he could remember. Whenever the subject of his earlier childhood came up, he was always at a loss for words. His mother wasn't of any help, either, always telling him that they simply needed to move and that it wasn't a good neighborhood where they came from. He always felt like there was more to the story, but he didn't want to push her too much to avoid a backlash.

"I...didn't know," said Sam. He looked up at Clay, who was still watching him silently, eyes locked on his. "I'm sorry. My memory isn't that great. Are you sure you have the right person?"

Clay sighed again. "I'm positive. Believe me, ever since she's been missing, I've been working tirelessly trying to track down the only family she has left: her mother...and apparently you. Trust me, I had no idea you existed either...until just recently."

"She does look like you," Kyle pointed out.

Sam stared down at the girl again. She certainly did have some similarities in appearance, but there was no way they were related.

"You think so?"

"Dude, look at her," said Kyle, pointing down at the black and white face. "She has the same face as you, only with longer hair. You remember when my parents took us downtown to that magic shop and you tried on that wig?"

He did remember, though vaguely.

"You looked just like she does," said Kyle, turning to Clay. "I remember."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just can't remember anything about her. Mom and I never talked about her since we moved here when I was little. We just got so caught up in living here."

Clay nodded, clearly disappointed at the lack of hope.

"When did she disappear?" Kyle asked, looking more anxious than he'd been about anything in a long time.

"A month ago," said Clay. "There was an incident at a pizza place called Circus Baby's Pizza shortly before it burned down. My son almost died in the accident, and your sister has yet to be seen since I began searching for her afterwards."

"Circus Baby's Pizza?" Kyle repeated.

"Yes, one of the newest pizzeria's of our town which didn't last long. Another failed animatronic restaurant on the list."

"Animatronic?" asked Sam.

"Yes, it had animatronics, based off the ones your father had once built, granted these ones weren't his work given that he's dead."

"My father's dead?" said Sam, feeling his heart sink in his chest a little.

Clay nodded. "He's been gone for over ten years, actually. Unfortunately, he committed suicide after one of his pizzeria's closed down due to some child kidnappings."

Kyle shook his head. "That's insane. I'd hate to be in his position after that. Then again, I can't really stand being around animatronics that much anyway. They always kind of creeped me out, the way they act like they're real but aren't. I never wanted to go to any places like that around here when I was young, but luckily I never had to worry too much 'cause Sam's mom wouldn't let him near them either."

Clay raised his eyebrows and turned back to Sam, who was still attempting to make sense of everything he'd heard so far.

"Animatronics," he said again, softly.

"Yes, your father created animatronics and founded a pizzeria called Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," said Clay, hoping to trigger something.

"Animatronics," Sam said again, his eyes transfixed on a spot just above the table.

Clay looked to Kyle, who shrugged. _I don't know,_ he mouthed.

"Fredbear," Sam said.

"Freddy Fazbear," said Clay. "He was the leader of the group of singing animatronics."

"No, I remember the name Fredbear," said Sam. "And I remember a dancing and singing yellow bear and rabbit."

Clay said nothing, and Kyle was staring at his friend in shock. _He never told me any of this!_

"I'm unsure of what exactly you're remembering," said Clay, "but yes, there were singing bears and rabbits."

Sam closed his eyes tightly, envisioning once more his memory from earlier. A yellow bear with a microphone dancing and singing to an audience of cheering children, parents laughing along tapping their feet. He suddenly saw himself there, singing along with them, not a care in the world. Next to him, a little girl with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked at her, and she looked back at him and smiled. His sister.

"Charlie," he said.

Clay's eyes lit up. "Yes, that's what everyone called her."

"So you remember?" Kyle asked, intrigued.

Slowly, Sam nodded, looking back and forth between them. "Yes, I remember her. I don't a whole lot, but I remember her now."

"What was she like?" Kyle asked, but Sam shook his head again.

"I can't remember exactly. I just remember her being there, at the restaurant."

Clay nodded. Sam turned his attention back to the picture.

"So she's missing?"

"Yes."

"Who was she living with?"

"Your Aunt Jennifer, for a while, although recently she's been living all over the place, with one of her friends at St. George, and then somewhere else for a good six months."

"How do you know she's really missing, then?"

"Because she returned recently, and...well, it's a long story, and I promise I'll explain everything on the way."

"On the way where?" Kyle asked.

"Well, that's what I'm getting at," said Clay simply, looking at Sam. "Next to your mother, who has firmly decided not to get involved when I called her, you are the only person who might be able to help me find your sister. And fortunately, given that you are an adult in no need of parental permission, I'm asking that you come with me back to Hurricane to aid in the investigation."

Sam said nothing, taken aback by the offer. "Excuse me?"

"I know it's a bit of a leap," said Clay, "having a man you just met ask you to travel across the country to help in a search party, but we' re having no luck whatsoever."

"And you think I can help you?" Sam asked.

Clay sighed. "Such is my hope."

"I don't know," said Sam. "It seems a bit of a stretch."

"I understand," said Clay. "Are you busy here?"

"Sort of. We both have daytime jobs."

"Until your music career takes off?" Clay guessed, gesturing toward the packed instruments still sitting beside them on the floor.

Sam was impressed at his observation. He was a police chief after all. "Yeah, pretty much."

Clay nodded. "I understand," he said again. "Listen, I'm staying the night here. I'm not due to fly back until tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you sleep on it? Please understand, I'm just a concerned father of a friend of your sister's, and as a police chief who's become quite close to her as well over the last couple of years, it burdens me that we cannot seem to locate her no matter how hard we try. I'm not forcing you anywhere, son, it's entirely your call, but it would mean the world to me, to all of us back in Hurricane, if you helped us in any way you could." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. "Do you have paper?" Kyle handed him a pad. "Thank you. Here is the phone number of the motel I'm staying at. If you could let me know tomorrow what your decision is, that would be great."

He wrote down the number and slid it across the table to Sam, who took it. They all got up and Clay began walking to the door, with both young men following close behind.

"Well," said Clay grabbing his shoes, "in any case, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sam. You too, Kyle."

He shook their hands and, with a goodnight, walked outside.

Sam shut the door behind him and turned to face Kyle, who matched his look.

"Well," said Kyle. "This is certainly not how I was expecting this night to go. Here I thought we were just gonna have another long talk about our music and loneliness."

Sam snickered at the humor slightly, but his face never changed as he glanced down at the number written on the paper.

"What are you thinking?" asked Kyle. "Utah? That's quite a ways away. You think it's worth it? I mean, you think you can actually help him? You said you don't remember much."

Sam continued staring down at the piece of paper as if the numbers were a code that would give him the answer the longer he stared at it.

"I need some time to think," he said, and Kyle nodded.

"Alright, man. I think I'm gonna grab a quick snack and hit the sack. See you in the morning."

* * *

_April 12, 1999_

_Well, today was an interesting day, to say the least. Getting out of work late is one thing, and having to restring my guitar didn't help, but I'm still curious as to what happened in rehearsal. Why did I keep imagining our sixth-grade band director wearing a yellow suit? He never wore suits like that, and he never danced or even smiled! And that voice in the hall. What was that? It sounded so real, but it couldn't have been. It sounded familiar, too, like I should know it from somewhere. But where? It knew Mom's nickname for me as a kid. No one here ever called me Sammy, except Kyle until I threatened to tell everyone his nickname (I'm still holding him to that). _

_This is the first time that this has ever happened to me. I don't think I've ever had any mental problems. Mom never said. But I could've sworn I heard my name. I don't know. Maybe I've been__ working too hard lately, all those extra hours at work and talking with Kyle about the band._

_And then there's Clay. As if things weren't getting unusual enough, here comes a police officer all the way from Hurricane, Utah, traveling all the way across the country to find me and tell me that my sister is missing. I haven't seen Charlie in fifteen years, maybe more! Doesn't she have friends there who might know what happened to her? Why is it so important for me, someone who hasn't even seen her or been to that part of the country in years, to go offer my services? If they haven't found her already, what am I going to do? They must be desperate. _

_Clay asked for an answer tomorrow. I'm still not sure. I'll have to sleep on it._

* * *

Sam stared at the ceiling above him, the revelations of hours ago still echoing in his mind. _Charlie's missing,_ he kept thinking. He had completely forgotten about his sister over the years. He vaguely remembered the move, but after that, he knew it only took a matter of months for his three-year-old self to accept city life as the norm. Between that and his mother's fierce determination to kill any discussion about their past, all he ever thought about was life here in Chicago, his dreams, desires, friends. As time went on, he found his curiosity about his early childhood slowly dying, and the memories of it began fading into the wind.

_So why is everything coming back now?_ he thought. _Why, after so many years?_

He rolled onto his side and glanced at the clock. It was after midnight now. He groaned. He hated nights when he couldn't sleep. At home, he would get up and walk around for a little bit to help calm himself and hopefully tire himself out at some point while his mind mulled things over, but he didn't want to do that now because Kyle had the tendency to sleepwalk sometimes. He'll never forget the day he got up to use the bathroom and walked out to find his friend staring mindlessly at him. He certainly didn't need coffee that morning.

Sam stared out his bedroom window. The rain had begun falling harder the last few hours and there were flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder out on Lake Michigan. He remembered he used to be scared of thunderstorms as a kid, clinging tightly to his mother at every crash of thunder, but now he had grown to enjoy them. They were a great force of nature, and it always amazed him how they rolled in and out like a guest who knew when it was showtime. He tried writing a few songs about the weather, but like all others so far, they hadn't gone anywhere yet. That inexplicable void still made its presence known. _Is this really my future? If things don't work out, then what's the point?_

_What's even the point of anything?_ a voice inside him asked. _What's the point of living? What's the point of going through life constantly looking for whatever distractions can ease our minds? What's the point of even going with this man to Hurricane?_

That brought his attention back to his primary focus on this sleepless night. He had the following day off work, so it didn't matter if he stayed up. Still, he hated it when his thoughts prevented his mind from easing into a peaceful slumber.

_Charlie._ How had he forgotten about her? Although he still didn't remember much about her, it seemed like her presence in his life years ago was suddenly so crystal clear. Of course, he had a sister. How could he ever have forgotten? Maybe it was all those years of lack of acknowledgment, mainly on his mother's part.

Sam rubbed his head, racking his brains. Had he ever asked about his sister before he forgot? Had he ever asked his mother that question and gotten a serious answer before she began shooting down his curiosity? He thought back to beginning kindergarten when his mother hugged him with watery eyes as she watched him join his classmates, excited to be starting something new. He thought of moving into their apartment, and he ran around excitedly to scope out the place. Everything was new, and his mother smiled at him as he told her about everything he saw out the window. As he ran back to look again, he tripped over a box. She picked him up and kissed him, telling him to be more careful. He helped her pick up some of the toys that had fallen, some of which were his favorites that he used to share with…

Sam shot up in his bed, the memory suddenly clear.

_...Charlie._

And then it hit him. He remembered the big move across the country. His mother had taken the money that she could afford and bought two plane tickets to Chicago, and she and her son flew ahead while the moving van followed. All throughout the flight, Sam kept asking his mother where they were going and what was going on. She told him to shush and be quiet as to not disturb the passengers nearby.

"_Isn't Daddy coming with us?" he asked her, and she shook her head._

"_No sweetheart, Daddy needs some time by himself. We might come back to see him again." _

That, of course, never happened.

"_What about Charlie?"_

_His mother's face tightened immediately, and tears began to fall from her eyes. He didn't mean to make her cry. He hated doing that, but he wanted to know where his companion and playmate was. She sat in silence for a few long moments, as if pondering what to say. Finally, she turned to look at him in the eyes._

"_Charlie's...staying with Daddy, honey."_

Sam's head plopped back down onto the pillow. So it was completely true. Charlie stayed with his father, while he went with his mother. A classic dividing of the assets, including children. Still, it amazed him how long years since had completely fogged over this part of his memory.

_And now she's missing,_ he thought. _What help could I be, though? I don't remember much. Would my contributions really make that big of a difference?_

It still seemed a bit of a leap. The name Hurricane really didn't ring any bells. He was almost certain he'd never lived there. Maybe that was where his father and sister moved to afterward. His father had opened a restaurant, a pizzeria, where children were later kidnapped. And his father...dead by suicide for years. Part of Sam felt like he should feel sad, and perhaps he would later, but the lapse in memory had also fogged over his father as well. He didn't remember much about him at all, so the news being broken to him only hours earlier hadn't really sunk in.

Sam shook his head as another roll of thunder cracked outside. Sam yawned, thinking back to the decision he would have to make sometime in the morning. Part of him was interested in visiting his childhood home as he was always curious about it, but another part of him reminded him that there was likely no help he would be. What would he do, answer a few questions about the very little he remembered of his sister and have them go off to someplace they hadn't looked only to come up empty handed?

_What if they didn't? You could see your sister again._

_ But what if she's _not_ found? I'd be killing hope and wasting everyone's time by going out there. If she hasn't been found yet, chances are slim she ever will._

_ How can you say that? She's your sister!_

_ I know, but chances are I won't help do anything. It's not worth it. _

_ Are you sure? Or is there something else? Something you're afraid of?_

_ I'm not afraid. I'm just being realistic._

_ No, there's something going on within you. Something dark._

_Shut up. I need to rest._

The rain continued to fall rhythmically as Sam's eyes finally closed.

_He stood inside an empty room, dark and dusty. Yuck. He hated the dust, it made him cough. He looked around. It was a dining room, complete with a bar and cash register, and tables and chairs all facing an empty stage. He walked over to the stage, hoping to see something there, but nothing was. It was completely empty. He tried to climb onto the stage, but he couldn't lift his legs up high enough. It was then that he realized that he didn't even reach two feet tall. He was a child._

_ The lights suddenly turned on. His eyes shot up and he saw an animatronic rabbit standing on the stage, his bright yellow fur glistening in the lights. He gave a cry of delight as the rabbit turned its robotic eyes toward him and began moving, his head bobbing back and forth in time with the tune that began playing out of nowhere. Sam began clapping and dancing along. He loved the animals and their way of bringing such comfort and joy to him. He loved the way they danced like people. You never saw real animals in the zoo do that. It gave him such great delight._

_ There was only one thing missing. Charlie. Where was his sister? She loved to sing and dance as much as he did. Where was she? He looked around the restaurant for her, but there was nobody else. He walked over to a window, expecting to see his parents' car parked outside like it always was, but there was nothing. There was only a tree, with giant branches that looked like they wanted to grab him. _

_ A knocking sound suddenly rang out from behind him. He turned around, focusing his attention to the back corner of the room. The knocking continued, echoing through the building above the noise of the music._

_ "Sammy?"_

_ It was a little girl's voice, shrill and panicked. He'd heard that before. _

_ "Sammy?" it said again. "Sammy, help!"_

_ On stage, the rabbit immediately stopped moving. The music that had been playing stopped and the rabbit's head swung robotically toward the door. It stared at it for a few seconds, and then twisted itself and began walking slowly toward the door._

_ "Sammy?" the voice said again, sounding even more panicked this time._

_ "It's ok," he told her. "He only wants to say hi."_

_ The rabbit moved robotically toward the door, but as it got closer, its movements changed. It looked more agile, almost like it was trying to sneak up on the inhabitant inside, like a surprise. When t finally got close to the door, its movements looked almost human. It reached for the door, its large matted hand growing closer and closer._

_ A scream from inside rang through the silence. Sam covered his ears. It was absolutely deafening. When he looked up, he saw the rabbit had turned to look right at him. Only the eyes weren't the same. They were human-like and absolutely dead. Within the gap between the teeth, he saw a twisted smile._

_ Without warning, the rabbit began sprinting straight towards him at full speed. Sam fell back toward the wall and hid his face in his hands, waiting for the impact to come._

_It hit him like ice. But wait, he was expecting a harder, bigger, and maybe even a fuzzy blow, not a cold one._

"Dude, wake up!"

His eyes shot open. Staring down at him was Kyle.

"Are you ok?"

Sam looked around. Sunlight was pouring into his bedroom. He glanced at the block. Eight-thirty AM. He noticed Kyle had an empty glass in his hand.

"Did you splash me with water?"

"I had to," said Kyle. "You forgot to deactivate your alarm again last night so it was going off but you weren't turning it off. I came in and saw you tossing and turning like crazy."

Sam shook his head. "Really?"

"Yeah! I was shouting your name and poking you and everything and you weren't waking up. This was all I could think of!" He gestured to the glass in his hand. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said, rubbing his hands on his face, realizing that he was sweating. "I just had a nightmare."

Kyle looked unconvinced. "You sure? Ever since yesterday, you've really been acting weird."

Sam sighed. "Ok, I don't know what exactly is going on, but to be honest, I think I'm having flashbacks."

Kyle's head shot back in confusion. "Of what?"

"Of my childhood," said Sam, sitting up in bed. "Yesterday during rehearsal, when you were playing that march, I thought back to sixth grade when the band played it, remember?"

Kyle nodded. "Vaguely. I didn't really stick around for that stuff, you know?"

"Well, I suddenly had this vision of our band director wearing a yellow suit and dancing around and singing."

Kyle's eyebrows narrowed.

"And then I heard my mom calling me like she was looking for me. And then just now, I had a dream that I was standing in a restaurant or something, and there was an animatronic rabbit dancing, and I was having fun, but then…"

He cut off, his shoulders tensing. Kyle took notice.

"What, you think it may have something to do with what Clay told us?"

Sam shook his head again. "Maybe, I don't know. You remember what we learned in psychology about the subconscious?"

"You know I never paid any attention in that class. Mr. Bernswick always put me to sleep."

Sam chuckled. "Well, I think my mind is trying to tell me something...something about my past."

"Ok, Mr. Philosophical," said Kyle, holding up his hands in slow-down-there gesture. "Let's not get carried away. You're probably just tired. We had a busy week last week, with all those gigs we had booked. And the weird stuff we heard last night didn't help."

"No, I think it's something else. I can feel it. It's hard to explain, but I think I may remember more about my childhood than I thought."

Kyle stared at him silently for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

"There was something else," Sam continued. "In my dream, there was a girl screaming my name. It sounded like…"

"Like your sister?" Kyle guessed.

"Yeah," said Sam hesitantly. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something. I just feel like I need to do something. Like I need to…" he paused, mulling over his words in his mind before letting them slip through his lips, "...go to Hurricane."

"Hurricane?" said Kyle, eyebrows raised. "Wait, so you want to go? Dude, that's a bit of a stretch. I mean, it's been, what, fifteen years since you've lived there. You think you can actually help find your sister?"

"I don't know," said Sam honestly, "but even if I don't, something tells me I need to go back and see for myself, just for closure."

Kyle opened his mouth but then shut it again. Sam wasn't sure how he would take this. In fact, he himself was still somewhat surprised that he came to this conclusion as quickly as he did. But something deep inside of him told him that he had to do this. Something was calling him.

Finally, Kyle nodded. "Okay. I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do. It's your life, your family. I understand that. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Kyle," said Sam. "I want you to come with me."

Kyle looked taken aback by the gesture. "What? Me? Going to Hurricane? Why?"

"Because…" Sam said, gazing out the window into the clouds.

"Because why?"

"Because Clay might need an expert pilot to-"

Kyle lowered his head and eyebrows in a way that spoke volumes. _Dude, don't lie to me._

"Ok, ok!" said Sam. "It's because I...well, I don't feel like going alone," he finished solemnly, his voice low and slightly embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" asked Kyle.

"It's been so long since I've been to my home," said Sam, turning back to look at Kyle. "I don't know anybody over there. It might be a bit overwhelming, the search for my sister. It's hard to explain, but for some reason, I feel this odd sense of isolation about going home. Like, I should be with someone if I'm there, someone I'm close to, but I won't be. I would really feel better if I had some familiar company."

Kyle said nothing, his face unchanged.

"Besides, I wasn't kidding," Sam added. "You are a pilot. Clay might be able to use your help getting eyes in the air." He glanced at his friend anxiously, fearing that he wouldn't bite.

"Need I remind you that I'm not a pilot by profession," said Kyle, scowling slightly. "I'm just a guy with a piloting license and rich, flying parents."

"That's all we need," said Sam, desperately hoping he was getting through.

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know, Sam. This isn't like you to make such a bold decision on such short notice. You always take your time on deciding important stuff, and it's always your own decision without any input from me. It's a bit of a stretch for me, too. Normally, I'd jump at the chance for an adventure with you, but this is kind of pushing it. Besides, I'd have to call my parents to let them know I need some time off so they don't schedule me to help them. Plus, I gotta-"

"Alright, then I'm calling it in."

Kyle's face dropped. "Calling what in?" he said nervously.

"That IOU," said Sam. "Need I remind you-"

Kyle's face tensed up immediately. "Dude, don't."

"-about that night-"

"Dude, seriously, I get it!"

"-when I saved your sorry butt from being kicked to the curb by Johnny Wilhelm?"

"Ok. Why are you _now_ bringing this up? I still have my own nightmares about that."

"And do you remember..." Sam went on, ignoring his friend's protests "...when you told me that if I ever needed a favor, you'd be there for me? Well, I'm calling in that favor."

Kyle huffed. "So...you want me to drop everything and go with you and a cop we just met across the country to look for your long-lost sister you completely forgot that you had just because you want 'familiar company'?"

Sam nodded. The look in his eyes told Kyle that he was being completely serious. That was it. Kyle threw up his arms, resting his head in his hand.

"Ok," he said. "You win. I'll come along...but only because I really do owe you. I don't know how much help I'll be, though. After all, this isn't my trip down memory lane."

"Don't worry," said Sam, reaching for the paper Clay gave him the night before and getting up. "It'll be alright."

He walked past Kyle and over to the phone in the living room. He dialed the number. It rang twice before being picked up.

"Clay Burke."

"Clay? It's Sam. I'm in."


	3. The Journey Begins

Clay drove up in his rented car at three o'clock. Sam had told Clay about his proposal. Clay was initially skeptical about it, stating that there were some personal aspects about it he wanted to talk with Sam about one-on-one. However, he couldn't help but be impressed when Sam told him about Kyle's flying experience. Despite Clay's personal interests, it was still a rescue mission. The more help they could get, the better.

Sam and Kyle had both packed what they could into small suitcases. They'd promised themselves that if their career ever took off, they'd buy bigger cases, but this was all they had for the time being. They loaded them into the back of the car and began their journey to the airport.

"I'm still surprised you were able to get two more seats so fast," Kyle told Clay, who shrugged.

"Fortunately, being a police chief has its advantages when it comes to money and insider knowledge. I have an old high school buddy who's in charge of booking at O'Hare. He says there were a few last-minute cancellations on my flight to Salt Lake City. The seats aren't together, though. I hope you don't mind."

The boys shook their heads.

"Story of his life," said Kyle, gesturing to Sam. "Ever since I've known him, he's always had this sense of isolation, like he's lost in his own world sometimes. This is probably exactly what he needs."

Clay nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. His father was the same way."

Sam's head turned slightly from the window, the mention of his father catching his attention briefly before he continued gazing at the city as they passed. He still felt guilty about not feeling something stronger after hearing about his father's death, but it had been so long since he'd seen him, not to mention Clay wasn't giving any fresh signs of loss from it, either. Sam sighed. He still wasn't sure exactly how to feel. If anyone had told him a mere twenty-four hours ago what he'd be doing the following day, he'd have thought they were crazy. And yet here he was, on the road to crazy town with his friend and a man they'd only known for hours.

"Forgive me if I'm being inconsiderate," said Clay, "but do you think your mother would like to know where you're going?"

Sam and Kyle both glanced at each other.

"Not really," said Kyle. "She's a bit sensitive to this kind of stuff. She's always been very protective of Sam, telling him to be careful whenever he did anything. She nearly had a heart attack the first time my dad offered him a ride up in a plane. I think it's best that she doesn't ever find out about this."

Clay glanced at Sam, who nodded.

"Yeah, but just in case she comes to the apartment, I left a note saying that Kyle and I took a few days off of work to take care of some business. With luck, she'll think it's band-related and not ask any questions when we get back."

Clay shrugged. "Alright, then. It's your business."

* * *

They arrived at the airport within minutes. After an hour-long wait and three new song ideas from a bored Kyle, they boarded the plane. Clay took a seat in an aisle near the front while Sam got a window seat a few rows behind him. Kyle, on the other hand, ended up several rows back in the aisle next to an older-looking gentleman who had already fallen asleep. Kyle shot Sam an annoyed look.

_Lucky me_, he mouthed, and Sam chuckled. In nearly every movie or TV show he'd seen involving plane rides, one person always ended up getting the short end of the stick somehow.

As the plane lifted off the ground, Sam groaned. His stomach always protested during takeoff and landing. Something about the change between ground-to-air and vice versa rubbed his stomach the wrong way. Fortunately, he had hardly eaten anything all day, so there was little at risk of coming out. Before long, they reached their cruising altitude and Sam leaned back, closing his eyes.

A few rows up, Clay glanced back at him. It still amazed him. After all these years, he had never known that Henry had another child, that Charlie had a brother, and a twin brother, at that. He took note once more of Sam's face, how it almost mirrored the face he'd seen so often the last almost two years during the incidents they'd been through.

_The incidents. _That, Clay realized as he faced forward once more, was something that he was still debating on how exactly he would tell them. How much would they believe? That animatronics had apparently come alive, possessed by deceased children? He shook his head. It still puzzled him a bit. How could that happen? Five children were led astray and murdered brutally by Henry's co-owner William Afton, and he had been led to believe that their bodies were stuffed inside the suits, forming a connection with the animatronics. But how did that work? The animatronics came alive and tried attacking a group of teenagers who had once been their childhood friends, including his own son Carlton. And then a year later, he had discovered a secret underground pizzeria owned by Afton beneath Charlie's father's house, and after an impromptu rescue mission for her, she supposedly died.

And then there was the last month or two when a doppelganger of Charlie was walking around masquerading as her, fooling many...except him. Unfortunately, after catching onto her secret, he found himself in the hospital for a while, only recovering in time to find his son taking his place after yet another supernatural incident at the most recent restaurant, Circus Baby's Pizza. Although Carlton was fine and it seemed like another case closed on the ordeal, Charlie, the one they knew, was never found. Carlton and the others, Jessica, Marla, and John, all testified that they had found and spoken with _their _Charlie, but he never had the chance. Jessica had taken him to Silver Reef and shown him the remains of the body of Charlie's unfortunate Aunt Jen. They couldn't stand to look at it for too long given that decomposition had already long-since begun at that point. She was removed and later given a proper burial.

It was then that the two of them had looked down the hall and noticed something very unsettling. Two still figures, one of which had a blade. Clay recognized it immediately. It was the robot that had been near Henry's body the day he...well, ended his life. And now here it was in Silver Reef. The other figure was even more unsettling to behold. Lying on the floor in a heap was a recent face he'd become acquainted with, a robotic face that was often hidden behind a facade of an older (and, according to Carlton, prettier) version of Charlie. And now here it was, in its true hideous form, its dead face murderous and its mouth open in rage. Clay shuddered. It was this exact face that he saw moments before it nearly killed him in his own home. The rest of the house was nowhere near as interesting, save for the crate in which Jessica and John had found Charlie, _their _Charlie, during their first visit to the house. Clay had the dead imposter's body removed. Although part of him desired to have it looked at and studied, put to some use, his near-death experience at its hands was too strong, and he had it burned. He took it into his backyard and, under Carlton's fascinated gaze from upstairs, burned it to ashes. He'd had enough of it. He wanted nothing more than to get rid of any connection to William Afton and his streak of terror.

But where was Charlie? The Charlie they all knew and loved? While he was struggling for life in a hospital, she had momentarily reappeared and then vanished almost as quickly. Jessica and Marla, two of her closest friends, constantly asked him for reports and updates on his search. He still got occasional long-distance phone calls from Marla after she returned to school, and Jessica was relentless, stopping by nearly every other night offering her services, which Clay politely turned down and told her to focus on her own school. Carlton, being forced to stay home for an undetermined amount of time due to his sustained injuries, asked questions too, and tried lightening the mood every now and then as he always did, but it was obvious that he too missed Charlie. And John…

_John._ _Where was John? _That was the big mystery behind all of this. The last anybody heard from or saw him was that day in the hospital, when he told Clay firmly that he wouldn't find Charlie. And he turned and walked out, never to be seen again. Every passing day with no luck finding her increased Clay's suspicions that John may know something important, but he was gone. Even more shockingly, his apartment was empty when he checked, with no sign whatsoever that John had been around in some time. John had officially dropped off the grid almost as quickly as Charlie had, with no indication whatsoever of his whereabouts. All that was left to do was to keep looking, regardless of how long it took or how many of Clay's colleagues convinced him that it was hopeless.

Clay sighed as he mentally re-examined the events of the last fifteen years. _Poor Charlie, _he thought, _and poor Henry. That family has been through some crazy times. And it started before Henry and Charlie even came to town, with Henry losing a child and all…_

Suddenly, he shot up in his seat with eyes wide.

_Wait a minute. Which child did he lose?_ He looked back at Sam, whose eyes were still closed. _This is Charlie's brother, who's very much alive. So which child of Henry's died? Did he have a third?_ His mind mulled over everything he'd learned the last few weeks. He never saw anything to indicate a third child of Henry's, but then again it wasn't obvious to him that Sam existed until he had called his mother, who may very well be hiding something, trying to prevent revealing anything else after letting it slip that she has a son.

Clay shook his head. It had certainly been a long month since Charlie disappeared, and Carlton's slowly-improving condition at home wasn't helping. Of course, he had to take a few months off of school to heal. Fortunately, given his unique circumstances, his school in New York assured him that they would work something out, but nevertheless, he had to heal. He had just recently begun walking again, albeit very slowly. It was heartbreaking seeing his son suffering as much as he was, but he was lucky to be alive after being injected in the heart with one of Afton's experiments. Clay sighed, trying to think optimistically.

_At least Sam's here, now. With him, we might be able to get somewhere...I hope._

But still, somewhere deep in his heart, an awful feeling began to grow. He had very briefly asked Charlie about her supposedly-dead twin brother. It was while they were inspecting the remains of Tracy Horton, one of the bodies that had begun appearing randomly between Hurricane and St. George's. He remembered how quickly she brushed him off when he had asked her.

_"You had a twin, didn't you? Your brother."_

_"I barely remember him."_

Clay shut his eyes, trying his best to fight off that awful feeling still growing inside him.

_We still don't know anything for sure, yet. Charlie might still be alive, just like she clearly has been all these years...right?_

He glanced back at Sam again, watching as his eyes opened and he pulled a small notebook and pencil out of his pocket.

* * *

_April 13, 1999_

_I've made up my mind. Kyle and I are both on our way to Utah now. It's still a little crazy how fast and suddenly this all happened, but I think there may be more to my past than what's going on. On that note, Clay's been sending some weird vibes. Not that he seems untrustworthy (I hope he's not!), but I can't help but get the feeling that he's hiding something. Hopefully, it's just a matter of us getting there first, but I wonder how much more there is to this story than he' s letting on so far. He has this look in his eyes that something deep is bothering him. He's trying to pass it off like nothing's going on outside of what he says he's trying to do, but there's something there._

_Maybe I'm still a little tired from yesterday. After all, it has been a crazy twenty-four hours. I'm glad I talked Kyle into coming as well. I might need a familiar face to be there for me if things get overwhelming. And who knows? Maybe this little trip is exactly what we both need to clear our heads and refocus once we get back._

* * *

When the plane landed in Salt Lake City, it was getting darker, but still adequately lit thanks to the timezone jumps. Kyle was the first off the plane, having grown increasingly irritated by his neighbor's obnoxious snoring, with Clay and Sam following not too far behind.

They retrieved their luggage and took it to the shuttle which drove them to the nearby car park. As they approached Clay's police car, Kyle turned to Sam.

"You know it keeps hitting me more and more how weird this all is?" he whispered. "Coming here, getting into a police car. I keep thinking we're in trouble for something, just like...you know…"

Sam nodded, knowing exactly what Kyle was referring to but not willing to bring it up.

"So, this one's yours?" Sam asked.

"Yep," said Clay. "It's a bit old, but it runs fine."

"Why'd you park way back here?" Kyle asked, noting how far away they were from the entrance to the car park.

Clay sighed. "Honestly, with all the countless hours I've spent trying to track down your sister, Sam, I've had enough people give me strange looks that I didn't want to draw too much attention to the fact that I'm a cop from Hurricane."

They climbed into Clay's car and were soon heading down the main road.

"So, you boys ever been to this side of the country?" Clay asked, still figuring out how to work the full details into a conversation.

Kyle shook his head. "Nah. I've been out of state a little, but nowhere too far. Farthest I ever went was to New York with my father."

"That's good," said Clay. "You know, my son Carlton is studying acting in New York. Well, not right now. As you'll soon find out, he's...taking a bit of time off at the moment, but he says he loves it. Of course, you know all about city life, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Kyle. "I mean, once you get used to people driving like lunatics every day and the weather deciding it wants to skip two seasons every other year, it's not that bad. Honestly, it's kind of like looking in one of those funhouse mirrors, you know? At first, you think it's amusing, but then you quickly get tired of looking like a lima bean with a shrunken head."

Clay laughed. "I like you, Kyle. You really need to meet my son. You two would hit it off pretty well. He could really use some company, being at home all the time."

Kyle nodded in interest before turning to Sam, who'd been silent for the entire duration of the car ride so far. "You ok, Sam?"

Sam nodded but still said nothing. Clay glanced at him as well.

"Any of this look familiar, Sam?"

Sam took a look out the window. They had just driven through Provo. There were many buildings, some old, some new, all of which stood out against a mountain landscape in the back. Sam shook his head.

"No, nothing yet."

"Wow," said Kyle, admiring the mountains. "I'd love to take a ride over those."

"Yes," said Clay. "I've always admired the beautiful scenery here. So, how long have you had your piloting license?"

"Not long," said Kyle. "I'd flown under my dad's supervision many times while he was training me, but I only got my license last July right after I turned 18. And it's only a private license. My mom and dad both wanted me to get a commercial at some point, but I told them that I'm only sticking around helping them out until we work something out with our music."

"Ah, so how long have you two been playing?" Clay asked, still watching Sam's silent gaze out the window.

"Us? Well, I've been taking piano lessons since I was six. Sam's only been playing guitar for about eight or nine years, but he's pretty good. We've also been singing-"

"Clay?" Sam interrupted, causing both of them to look at him. "What's she like?"

"Who? Your sister?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "What's she like?"

"Kind of quiet. Didn't really speak much, especially in larger groups of people. Very reserved, but a bright kid. Smart and quick on her feet. Learned a lot about self-management from your Aunt Jen."

"Didn't like public speaking, huh?" Kyle said with a chuckle. "That sure sounds like a family connection, all right. I remember the night of our first show, this guy..." He nodded to Sam. "...told me that if I looked over halfway through the show and didn't see him anywhere, it was because he was in the bathroom hurling."

Sam slapped him in the arm and turned back to Clay.

"Have you spoken to my Aunt Jen?"

Clay sighed. "No. I'm afraid she's gone, too."

Sam and Kyle both exchanged nervous looks. Exactly how much had this guy not told them yet?

"What do you mean, she's dead too?" Kyle asked bluntly.

Clay nodded. "I promise I'll explain everything once we get to the house. I hope you boys don't mind staying at my place. It's better than some of the local motels, believe me. I'll see if Carlton's up to fill you in as well."

Sam and Kyle looked away and out their windows, both with a pit in their stomach. It seemed like every time Clay opened his mouth there was more bad news to add to the tension.

Clay sensed he had hit them a little bit and decided to remain silent for a little while. He still considered it lucky that they, particularly Sam, had agreed to come and help. Given his mother's immediate rejection of the offer, which he never actually had the chance to give her, he was nervous about meeting Sam and extending the offer to him. That was what led him to take the time for a face-to-face meeting. He only hoped that it wouldn't all be for nothing.

Finally, they passed the sign.

WELCOME TO HURRICANE, UTAH.

Sam and Kyle began inspecting the place almost immediately.

"Is this it?" Kyle asked.

"Yep," said Clay. "Not a very big or rich town, as you may have guessed."

"So where are we going first?" Sam asked.

"To my house," said Clay. "It's been a long day for us. Besides, I want to fill you in with all of the full, personal details as promised before you start getting confused with some of the theories on the local news."

"Personal details?" said Sam as they turned into an urban subdivision.

Clay sighed. "Let's just say, I've been both privileged and unfortunate enough to witness many things much more closely than any other cop in town. I know a lot more about what's happened than what you'll see on TV or hear on the streets."

"Like what?" Kyle asked.

Clay's eyes glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"You'll see."


	4. First Night in Hurricane

**A/N:** A thanks to everyone who's read and is enjoying the story so far. As a quick FYI, I made some small additions to the previous chapters. Sam has a journal going. I hope it makes Sam's thoughts more natural and effective.

* * *

The key slid seamlessly into the lock and the door opened swung open. Clay stepped aside and allowed them both inside. Sam looked around in amazement at the size of the house. Granted, it wasn't as big as Kyle's parents' house, but it was still bigger than he expected.

_Well, he is a police chief, I guess._

A noise from the kitchen immediately drew their attention.

"That would be my son," Clay sighed, walking over with the newcomers right behind him.

Standing in the kitchen, hidden behind the open refrigerator door, was someone clearly trying sneak as much food into their arms as they could.

"And what are we doing, exactly?" Clay asked.

Movement stopped. Silence fell.

"I didn't think you'd be coming home so early," a voice spoke. "Besides, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten much today."

"How about you look me in the eyes and tell me?" Clay said, desperately wishing for his son to notice the company.

Carlton groaned. Closing the refrigerator and putting a few bowls and plates of saran-wrapped food onto the counter.

"Dad, gimme a break, ok? I've been watching movies all day, and I haven't had the chance to eat anything!" He began unwrapping half a sandwich.

"Oh, you poor child," said Clay mockingly, growing impatient. "You never thought to take a break?"

"You know how hard it is for me to get from one spot to another," said Carlton, finally turning to his father. "I can't-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the guests. His eyes widened as they studied Sam's face.

"Who-? What-?"

"I guess now's as good a time as ever to tell you," said Clay with a smile. "I made a little trip to Chicago to go find somebody. Carlton, this is Sam, Charlie's twin brother."

Carlton continued staring at Sam, mouth agape and twitching, struggling to find words.

"Is he ok?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know," said Clay. "Being the prank master that he is, I don't think I've ever seen him this shocked."

Carlton put one foot in front of the other and eased himself forward a step, grunting in pain and putting a hand to his chest as he did so.

Sam took this as a sign and walked over to him, extending a hand.

"Sam Anderson."

Carlton glanced down at the hand that was extended to him and back into Sam's face. Hesitating for a few more seconds, he reached forward and grabbed it, shaking it weakly.

_Either he's confused or still recovering,_ Sam thought.

Carlton continued to stare into Sam's face silently for a long time, carefully studying every feature. He raised a hand and stroked the air, curving it around Sam's face.

Clay cleared his throat. "Um, son?"

Carlton blinked. "I'm sorry. I just...didn't expect...wow."

Sam glanced back at Kyle, who shrugged.

_Don't look at me, dude,_ he mouthed with a smirk.

"So, you're Charlie's brother?" Carlton asked.

"Yeah," said Sam, "as I've recently been reminded."

"I never knew she had a brother," said Carlton, still struggling to find his voice. Something very unusual for him, Clay noted. "I mean, she never mentioned you at all."

"Well, his mother never mentioned her much, either," said Kyle, trying to lift the awkwardness of the situation as best he could.

"Ah yes," said Sam as he and Carlton both turned to face him. "This is my friend, Kyle Jackson. He volunteered to come along."

Kyle shot him an annoyed look that said: _Yeah, totally my decision._

"Yeah," he said to Carlton. "I've got some flying experience. Figured it might help in the search."

Carlton turned to his dad. "So, you're still looking for Charlie, then?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I am," he said. "That's why I went to Chicago. I've been tracking Charlie's mother these last few weeks and finally found her...and Sam." He nodded to Sam.

Carlton turned back to Sam, a smile forming on his face. "So it's true? How much do you remember? Did you guys get into any fights when you were little? What about-"

"Easy, son," Clay said. "Let's go into the other room. It's actually good that you're here. I promised these boys I'd give them all the details."

They all walked into the living room and sat down, Sam and Kyle on the sofa and Clay and Carlton in nearby chairs.

"So, what's been going on?" Sam said immediately.

Clay and Carlton looked at each other.

Clay sighed. "To put it bluntly, this town has seen some murders and paranormal activity in these last few years."

Sam and Kyle stared wordlessly at him for a minute.

"When you say paranormal activity," said Kyle, "you mean, like, ghosts?"

"In a way," said Clay, looking mainly at Sam. "You see, for reasons that I still cannot explain properly, some of Henry, your father's, old animatronics were, how do I put it, _inhabited_ by the spirits of deceased children."

"Deceased?" said Sam in shock. "Is that what you meant by kidnappings? You never said they were killed!"

"Sadly, yes," said Clay. "Back in the mid-eighties, before your father's restaurant closed, five children were kidnapped and killed by your father's partner, William Afton. One of these children, Michael, was a good friend of my son."

Sam and Kyle looked at Carlton, whose face had sunken upon hearing Michael's name.

"I'm sorry," said Sam. Carlton nodded, saying nothing.

"Yes, they were very close. They probably would've grown up to be yin and yang, much like you two are," said Clay. "But unfortunately...it happened. There was nothing anyone could do."

"That sucks," said Kyle. "I'm really sorry."

Sam nodded. The weight of the tragedy hit home. As irritating as he could be, Kyle was like a brother to him. Losing him to such a tragedy was unthinkable.

"It's ok," Carlton said softly with a small smile. "He's ok, now."

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked.

Clay looked at his son. "I think we should start from the beginning." Carlton nodded.

The Burkes then launched into their accounts of the past two years unfolding of events. Clay discussed how Michael's parents, the Brooks, sought to put together a memorial/honorary scholarship event in their son's name, which in turn brought his teenage childhood friends together for the service, including Charlie. Carlton talked about how they met frequently in the local diner and made late-night visits to the abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza entombed inside the mall. Carlton went missing, Clay brought the rest of them to the house and talked to them, Carlton was trapped inside a suit and was freed by Charlie as they tried to escape the restaurant, Clay burst through as the animatronics attacked, and Dave the security guard, a.k.a. William Afton was supposedly killed by Charlie. A year went by, and mystery struck once more as dead bodies began appearing around the town and on the road to St. George. Clay had gotten Charlie reluctantly involved, which in turn, led to her eventual abduction and their discovery of an underground pizzeria beneath Henry's house. Afton, alive and nicknamed Springtrap, was present and tormented them with his twisted animatronics before fleeing, and one of those demented animatronics swallowed Charlie and, as far as he was concerned, killed her. Six months later, another version of her, which fooled many of them for a while, began masquerading as her. Carlton, like the others, was initially willing to believe in her miraculous recovery despite John's suspicions, but Clay felt something was off, and his suspicions put him in a hospital for a while. Carlton, along with Jessica and Marla, had gone to Circus Baby's Pizza to find out the truth and rescue the new batch of Afton's kidnapped children, and Carlton nearly died but instead helped save the souls of the deceased children from ten years ago, including Michael, by exposing Afton as their murderer. This was only a month ago, and the rest was already known. Carlton had to stay home for a while to fully recover, Marla and Jessica had both gone back to school demanding promises of updates, and John and Charlie, _their_ Charlie, were mysteriously gone. Clay had spent the entire month searching tirelessly. After losing hope and preparing to announce Charlie's official death, he was compelled to track down any of Charlie's relatives in the hope that they could be of any assistance in finding her. And here, after all of that, sat her brother on his couch.

"And that brings us to why you're here," Clay finished. "Questions?"

Sam and Kyle were looking back and forth between each other, the Burkes, and the newspapers, pictures, and police reports on the table Clay had brought out while Carlton had gone to the bathroom. Neither Sam nor Kyle had much comprehension of many of the events that had been told.

"So, this town is, like...haunted?" Kyle finally asked.

"It was, apparently," said Clay. "It's been completely calm this last month since Circus Baby's burned down, but then again that means nothing seeing as we've had longer periods of peace before things got weird again."

"This town's always been weird, though," Carlton said. "It's always the small towns in the middle of nowhere that the crazy stuff happens in the movies."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," said Carlton. "It's like...ever since I can remember, there's always been something weird going on with this town. It just…" He moved his arms and hands in an attempt to illustrate, "...feels different. The isolation and all that, it feels like we're kind of away from the world, out where the world doesn't notice that much."

"Yeah, I see that," said Kyle. "In a big city like Chicago, crazy people are always making headlines."

"Oh, it's really bad in New York. Trust me," said Carlton. "But that's what I mean. In a town like this, stuff like that doesn't get that much attention in the rest of the country, so it's almost like the creepy stuff goes a lot more...unnoticed."

"Forgive me," said Sam, "but what makes you think that these _hauntings_ or whatever are related to the child murders?"

"It's a long story," said Clay. "I wish I could tell you more, but Carlton knows more about it than I do."

Kyle opened his mouth to interject something, but Sam shot him a warning look. Kyle nodded and raised a hand in surrender, obviously getting the message clearly.

"It's still confusing to think about myself," said Carlton. "I know it sounds really crazy. I wouldn't have believed it myself either before, but I'm not kidding. Believe me, I saw what I saw and did what I did. I didn't really start thinking about how strange it was until later. All I cared about at the time was doing what was right. Setting those kids free."

Kyle and Sam exchanged more confused glances. The look on Kyle's face was still skeptical, and Sam knew why. Kyle was always creeped out by animatronics, so to him, the events described sounded more like what creepy animatronics would normally do.

"But let's not focus too much on that," Clay interjected. "After all, what's done is done. You're here to help us find your sister...hopefully."

"With all due respect, sir," said Kyle, "do you put this much effort into every missing persons case?"

"Well, yes and no," said Clay. "As a policeman, my job is to serve and protect, and everyone is of equal value. However, I do admit that these circumstances have taken some extra attention from me. Charlie, as average and normal as she appeared on the outside, has become increasingly unique to me these last few years. The only daughter, or so I thought, of the man who founded Freddy Fazbear's and who has somehow come back to life after being crushed, along with a monstrous doppelganger who nearly killed me. Strange things like that typically draw some extra attention. Besides, she is still my son's friend, so I am admittedly a bit biased there."

Sam shook his head in confusion. He was still trying to wrap his brain around what he had been told. Charlie had been crushed inside a suit, bleeding profusely, and that somehow led to another version of her, a fake-yet-real version, walking around town. And this William Afton person, who had apparently been his father's old partner, was the culprit behind all of the chaos? It shocked him that someone so close to his father could have done so much. And for what? The whole thing seemed like a horror movie or even a setup. Part of him thought and hoped that at some point Clay and Carlton and others would yell "Surprise!" and Charlie would come out and tell him that it was a secret homecoming party or something. But the looks on their faces told him that they were being serious, not to mention Clay would have probably declined Kyle's accompaniment if that were the case.

"So, what do we do?" Sam asked.

"Well, there's not much to do tonight," said Clay. "But tomorrow, we'll be really getting started."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Well, I want to take you boys around the town, first of all, get you acquainted with the area and point out some..._key_ areas. Then we'll go from there."

"And, uh, what about me and my _expertise_?" said Kyle.

"I know someone who might be able to hook you up with a plane," said Clay. "It might not be much, but I think it'll work."

"You fly?" Carlton asked.

"Yeah. My parents own their own company, so learning to fly was kind of a given."

"That's cool. I've always wanted to see these mountains from up in the air, and see all the people moving around like ants below."

"Trust me, they'll look even smaller than ants with how high I like to go."

Carlton beamed, but Sam shot him a warning look.

"Easy, Kyle. You wanna kill yourself, that's one thing, but…"

"Ah, stop worrying," said Kyle, waving his hand at him. "I won't be too dangerous. After all, this is technically a rescue mission, isn't it?"

A rapid knocking on the door suddenly rang through the house. They all looked over as it continued almost non-stop with little breaks.

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"I have no idea," said Clay, checking his watch and getting up to answer the door.

Carlton cleared his throat. "Oh, by the way, I made a quick call on my way to the bathroom earlier."

Clay opened the door. Standing there, dressed in a T-shirt, lightweight jacket, and blue jeans was a woman, brown hair and eyes threatening to bulge out of her skull in anxiety.

"Jessica!" Clay exclaimed. "What a-"

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Clay glanced at his son, who smiled in return.

"In the living room."

Jessica rushed past him and into the room. There, she stopped and looked Sam dead in the face, studying his features.

"Hi," he said, getting up and walking over to her. "I'm-"

With no warning, she threw her arms around him, almost crushing his lungs in a tight embrace.

"Um," said Sam, looking over her shoulder at Clay, who only smiled and shook his head. Carlton was also looking in amusement, while Kyle shrugged as if to say _Well okay then._

Finally, Jessica let him go and looked at him.

"You look just like her."

"Like my sister?" Sam asked.

"Yeah! I feel like I already know you, even though we've never met before. I didn't even know she had a brother until Carlton called me, but I just got so excited, that I-oh, it's great to see you! I haven't felt this much hope in a long time!"

"Wait," said Sam, looking between her, Clay, and Carlton. "So, Charlie never mentioned me?"

Carlton and Jessica shook their heads.

"Not as far as I can remember," said Carlton.

"Me neither," said Jessica.

Clay, on the other hand, remained silent with a knowing look on his face.

"Well, it looks like you two were separated at a young age," he said, turning to Jessica and Carlton. "Not to mention it took Sam a little while to remember her. She probably forgot herself."

"Yeah, it did seem like her memory was a bit off sometimes," said Carlton. Jessica glared at him. "No, I'm serious. She did remember quite a bit, but there was always a sense like she was lost in her own head sometimes, and you were never sure what she was thinking about."

"Well, nevertheless," said Clay, sensing an argument, "the past is the past. Right now, what's important is that Sam is here, and starting tomorrow, we'll see if we can finally get somewhere with trying to find Charlie."

Jessica turned to Sam. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Sam. I'd love to talk more, but I have to get back. I have a big exam tomorrow. I hope we can meet up again sometime. I really want to know more about you, and Charlie as a kid."

Sam smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well then," said Clay. "Sam and Kyle, there's a few spare bedrooms for you to use tonight. And assuming we're all done raiding the kitchen…" He gave Carlton a knowing look, "...I think it's time we get some shut-eye. We've got a big day tomorrow."

* * *

_Well, this is certainly getting more and more interesting, not to mention bizarre. What Clay told me and Kyle was mind-blowing. That stuff only happens in fiction, right? Haunted machines, fake people impersonating real people. Reminds me of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" a little bit. _

_ I don't know. I'm still a little skeptical, and Kyle is, too. I think he waited until after we were alone before telling me to not offend them. Ever since that fight with Johnny, he's become so intimidated of saying something stupid, even though he occasionally still does. He's really skeptical about this whole thing, still. _

_I'm not sure what's going on, and frankly, I don't think I really want to know. I just want to help find my sister, and hopefully, we will, and get back to the way things were before whatever craziness in this town gets to me, too. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to help clear things up._

* * *

Sam lay in his bed in one of the spare bedrooms, staring up at the ceiling. Clay and Carlton's stories kept running through his mind.

_"She seemed so real, but she wasn't,"_ Carlton had said, which Clay confirmed.

That was the part that he couldn't understand, no matter how hard he thought. How could Charlie have died and supposedly come back to life, along with another version of her wandering around that knew how to say the right things and play the part fooling most people around her? According to the Burkes, she was a monster, only revealing her true form when she encountered one of them alone with their guard down. What sense did that make? Did his late father have anything to do with this?

He rolled over onto his side, glancing at the clock. 12:32 AM. The second night in a row of him having trouble falling asleep. For only being April, it was significantly warmer here than it was in Chicago. Granted, that was to be expected, but it still caught him off guard.

He kept thinking about what was going to happen the next few days. According to the Burkes, Charlie's doppelganger was indeed dead, but it still irked him to think that something that looked just like her was roaming around the town just a month earlier. It weirded him out, just imagining a pair of familiar yet different eyes looking at him as if gazing into his soul. He shuddered, hoping that Clay and Carlton were right.

He heard footsteps walk by his door outside. Either it was someone getting up to get something, or...

_ Uh-oh. Forgot to tell them about Kyle's sleepwalking habits. Oops. _He chuckled to himself. _Well, I'm sure he'll wake himself up by walking into a wall at some point. He has enough trouble navigating our apartment in his sleep._

And with that, Sam found himself fading into sleep.


	5. Questions & Answers

**A/N:** Thanks for your patience. I hope it's worth the wait.

* * *

_He was standing in a house, a small house with a kitchen on one side of him, a living room on the other, and a hallway directly in front of him leading to two bedrooms and an old bathroom. He walked into the bathroom and tried to climb onto the countertop, but he was too short. Shame. He wanted to feel adventurous, to feel like a king, to show Mom and Dad his excitement. And Charlie._

_ Charlie! Where was Charlie? She wasn't awake yet! He ran into the closer of the two bedrooms. Inside were two small beds. One was his; he recognized the sheets with cartoonish bears and foxes on them. The other bed had similar sheets, only with rabbits and chickens. In this bed was a small sleeping girl. He ran over to her._

_ "Charlie!" he yelled, pushing at her sleeping form. "Chhhharrrrlieee!"_

_ After a few moments, her eyes fluttered open. "Sammy! I was sleeping!"_

_ "Why are you sleeping? We're going to Fredbears again today!"_

_ "Daddy said not 'til later, though!"_

_ "What's going on in here?" came a familiar voice. They both turned to find their father standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual stained nightshirt and pajama bottoms, a large grin on his face._

_ "I'm too excited to sleep!" Sam exclaimed._

_ "I can see that," said Henry, walking over and sitting down on his bed He picked Sam up and put him on his knee. "But you know it's still very early in the morning. The sun hasn't even woken up yet."_

_ Sam looked out the window. He was right. The horizon was a dark shade of navy blue, with only the slightest visible indication of getting lighter._

_ "Are we still going today?" he asked, turning back to face his father._

_ "Of course," Henry said with a smile, ruffling his hair, "but not until a little bit later. Daddy has some work to do out in his workshop, first."_

_ "Can we watch?" he asked._

_ Henry gazed down at his son, and then glanced at his daughter, who was also maintaining eye contact with him._

_ "Maybe another time," he said. "Besides, you know how I don't like you two getting too close to Daddy while he's working. Now go back to bed. It's early."_

_ He ruffled his son's hair and again and gave him a kiss, and then went over and kissed Charlie on the forehead as well before leaving the room. Sam followed as he walked back into their bedroom. _

_ "Everything ok?" his mother asked._

_ "Yes. Our hyperactive son is eager as usual for our trip to Fredbear's."_

_ "He always is," she said with a yawn. "Did you tell him to go back to bed?"_

_ "Yes, dear," he told her, climbing back into bed alongside her, giving her a kiss._

_ Sam groaned. Why did grown-ups always do that? It was disgusting. He turned to walk back down the hall toward his bedroom._

_ "Henry," came his mother's voice, causing him to stop._

_ "Yes, dear?"_

_ "What are those new inventions you've been working on?"_

_ There were a few seconds of silence before he answered._

_ "That, my dear, is a surprise."_

_ Sam felt a jolt of renewed excitement. A surprise? Like on his and Charlie's birthday? That could only mean one thing: something good. He wanted to see it! He ran down the hall toward the front door. Despite what his parents thought, he actually could reach the doorknob. He stopped in front of the door and began reaching toward the brass knob, his fingers growing closer._

_ Suddenly, a loud thudding came from behind him. He turned around, expecting to see his mother or father running toward him, but it wasn't. Instead, it was the dark silhouette of an animal, an animal with long yet folded ears. It continued running toward him, its arms reaching out ready to grab, its footsteps thudding against the floor with every step._

_ Thud, thud, thud._

Sam's eyes shot open as he took in the sight of the ceiling, illuminated by a streak of sunlight coming through the window. He wasn't in the same place as he just was. It took him a moment to remember that he was in Clay Burke's house in Hurricane, Utah. He looked over at the clock. Nine. Had he really slept that long?

_Thud, thud, thud._ The door received another rap of knocks, the rather hard knocks of an impatient Kyle Jackson.

"Earth to Sammy!" came his voice through the door in a mock-concerned tone. "Commander Burke says it's time to touchdown and to get something to eat!"

Sam groaned and got up, walking over and opening the door to find Kyle standing there, a large smirk on his face, already dressed.

"There he is. Sleeping beauty has finally awoken!"

"Yeah, and his fist is pumped and ready to make contact with something," Sam shot back with a smile of his own.

"Well, that's a little violent. What's the matter? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Dude, cut it out. I'll be right down."

Kyle chuckled and left Sam to get dressed. Sam threw on a black T-shirt and some blue jeans. He gave his hair a quick ruffle and walked downstairs to breakfast. Clay stood at the stove while Kyle and Carlton, looking rather excited, sat at the table chatting. They turned to him and Kyle waved him into a seat near them.

"I was telling Carlton about some of our recent performances back home," Kyle told him.

"Which ones?"

"Oh, the usual ones. It's not like we've had that many...yet." He winked.

"That's cool," said Carlton. "Are you guys actually writing your own stuff?"

"Mmm…" Kyle hesitated. "Kind of. We don't really have anything to showcase yet, though. We're still trying to find our style. I know Sam has that one song from freshman year. Which one was it?"

Sam glared at Kyle. Did he really have to reopen that wound right now?

"It was the one about Cyndi, remember?"

"Oh yeah," said Kyle.

"Who's Cyndi?" Carlton asked.

Sam groaned. _Thanks, Kyle._

"When I was a freshman in high school, she expressed some...interest in me. She was very pretty and popular, too. But best of all, she was really sweet. We never really spoke until she heard me fiddling around on the guitar one day, and she started talking to me."

"Did you two go out?" asked Carlton.

Sam shrugged. "I guess you could say that. We went to an Italian restaurant one night and talked. She kept asking me about my music. You know, was I gonna be a rockstar or anything. I told her I hoped so, and she was so fascinated by it. That was pretty much all we talked about for the rest of the night. I didn't even get to as about her that much. But who cares, right? I was dating one of the prettiest girls in school."

Carlton smiled, clearly interested in the story's turn. Kyle, on the other hand, was torn between making a joke and letting Sam finish.

"So, we continued seeing each other for about a month or so, and I ended up writing a song about her. Nothing too deep, just expressing my happiness that a girl actually liked me."

"And then?" Carlton asked.

Sam sighed. "I played it for her one day, and...she just stared."

He paused, mentally recoiling as he relived the memory of her reaction. He didn't understand then, but he knew it without a doubt now. She was embarrassed, obviously not expecting to be the center of attention.

"And then," he continued, "she just stopped talking to me. She almost wouldn't even look at me anymore. It was so weird. I kept wondering if I did anything wrong, you know? Finally, after a couple of weeks, I saw her lip-locked with our star quarterback." He paused again for a few moments before continuing. "When she finally saw me, she told me in that ever-so-sweet voice of hers that it probably wouldn't have worked out between us. That I probably wasn't gonna end up being a big star, anyway. And then they walked away."

"Wow," said Carlton. "That sucks."

"Yeah. He didn't talk much for a few months after that," said Kyle, turning to his friend. "By the way, you know I was just trying to cheer you up with those jokes, right? I really was sorry it didn't work out."

"Yeah, I know," said Sam. "But anyway, now all I have from that experience is this song I don't know what to do with about a sweet girl who apparently only wants the bigshots, which she made very clear that I am not."

Silence fell. Carlton was hesitant to make any comment. Kyle decided to break the awkward silence with a cough.

"So anyway, Carlton. What about you? How's life for you?"

Carlton shrugged. "Not much. As you know, I've been under house arrest for a while. It's a shame, really. It's my first year in college and I was supposed to be in another play this week. We'd been rehearsing for months, and now I can't do it." He gave a big sigh. "But that's ok. It seemed kind of boring, anyway?"

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. It wasn't really all that exciting, at least not from what I noticed. I've always been fond of action, you know? Plays with lots of movement and talking. This one has a lot of quiet moments. I wasn't too sure about it that much."

"What's it about?" Kyle asked.

Carlton shook his head. "To be honest, I don't really know. It's about a young man whose father is dying in a hospital, and when they finally see each other again for the first time after years of being apart, they don't really hit it off that well. The father seems more interested in other things, like what he still has to do around the house when he gets out. They keep telling him _if _he gets out, but he's sure he will eventually. And the son keeps trying to convince himself that he's doing the right thing by coming back to see him even though he feels like he's unwanted."

"Doesn't sound that boring to me," said Kyle.

"Yeah, I know there are some people out there who like it," said Carlton, "but it doesn't really fit my interest that much. You ok, Sam?"

"Yeah," said Sam, shaking his head from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Kyle shook his head and leaned over to Carlton. "He's been doing that a lot lately. I'm thinking all those late nights are finally getting to him. Who knows what he does in those late hours?"

"I'm practicing," said Sam, "because unlike you, I actually want to be able to get through a song without missing a note."

"Oh, is that it?" Kyle teased. "And here I thought that all those noises coming out of your bedroom late at night were you strangling the neighbor's cat."

Carlton brought his fist to his mouth, trying to hold in a burst of laughter. Clay made a noise from the stove which sounded like he was trying to do the same. Sam glared at Kyle.

"Hey, Kyle. Don't let me forget: I have a present for you later."

"A present? Pour moi?" Kyle asked in mock surprise.

"Yeah," said Sam. "I'll give a hint. It involves five curled fingers and enough force to send you back to Chicago."

"Well, that's a little violent," said Kyle again, "but ok. I hear you. It's obvious that you're not in the mood right now."

"So, Clay," said Sam, desperate to turn the focus to why they were here in the first place. "What's the plan for today?"

"Well..." said Clay, bringing sausages and eggs to the table at that moment. "Given that this is still officially an open missing person investigation, I'll need to bring you down to the station to ask you some questions. Nothing too deep, but given that you are someone of interest in terms of witness, I want to have on record whatever information you might be able to give me, just to make it official."

"Dad, how many things have you done since this mess started that you kept off-the-books?" Carlton asked with raised eyebrows.

Clay sighed. "Son, I've told you time and again, no one's perfect. When you experience the bizarre things we have, you can't expect every call I make to be completely correct. I know I've made my fair share of mistakes throughout this whole ordeal, but sometimes there are things that the public at large don't need to know, at least in full. But now that most of this mess is hopefully behind us, I want to try and deal with this as professionally as I can."

Carlton shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Now eat up," Clay told them, mainly Sam and Kyle. "I want to make sure we get to the station before it gets too busy as it always does."

As Sam and Kyle began to focus on the food that had been put in front of them, Sam glanced at Carlton, who was looking at him with a pained look on his face. It wasn't too obvious, but there was clearly lingering remnants of the recent emotional trauma being revealed.

_Good luck_, he mouthed to Sam, who nodded in acknowledgment.

* * *

Clay pulled into the parking lot of the police station and into his designated parking space. Sam, alone in the passenger seat, glanced up at the building. It wasn't very tall, but it had an old look to it with obvious renovating efforts showing here and there. He wasn't sure what he expected it to look like, being in a small town. Now he knew.

"Ready?" Clay asked.

Sam hesitated before answering. "Yeah."

They exited the car and began walking toward the station. They were alone. Kyle had been asked to stay at the house to keep Carlton company, and because he was of no use to this portion of their investigation.

They walked through the front doors into the reception area, where a few people sat waiting in seats. They looked up at the newcomers and back down again. A woman in a white blouse and blue jacket sat behind the desk managing calls. She nodded at them as they walked by.

"Good morning, Clay."

"Morning, Susan."

They walked down a short, narrow hallway past an empty meeting room and a break room with a few men laughing and holding small styrofoam cups. After a few seconds, they reached a door at the end of the hallway. Clay unlocked it and led Sam inside to a room with a desk, lamp, and stacks of papers and folders cluttered everywhere on the desk and floor.

"Um…" Sam couldn't help but notice how untidy it looked. He expected a police chief to have a lot on his plate, but it still gave off an appearance of unkempt stress.

"Yes, I know," said Clay. "I've been very busy lately, as I've already said. I'm hoping to get around the tidying up once I finish with this case. Please, take a seat."

Sam sat in the small chair across from the desk while Clay sat behind it, setting his briefcase down and pulling out a few things, one of which was a notepad.

"Now," he said, looking Sam directly in the eyes for the first time since entering. "I know this is a little unprofessional. Usually we have rooms dedicated to this very purpose, but with unusual circumstances comes exceptions, and I don't really feel like making a big scene about this given how crazy some of my colleagues already think I am for obsessing so much over this."

He opened a file, the same file that he had brought with him to Chicago. In it contained the mugshot of Charlie and the report on her disappearance.

"So," said Clay, pushing the file toward Sam and readying a pen. "Let's get down to business, shall we? Think back as best you can. What can you tell me about your sisters?"

Sam shook his head, gazing down long and hard at the photo. When was this photo taken, anyway? She looked like she could've been smiling, but then again she had that look about her.

"When was this taken?" he asked.

"The picture? Jessica provided it. Apparently, this was on their first day of classes this past fall. A momento."

Sam looked below the photo, something he hadn't thought to do before. It gave a brief description of her appearance, her brown hair, her eyes, her body size. It never occurred to him how similar the descriptions were to him, but then again, she was his twin. It still boggled him how he could've forgotten through time that he had a twin sister. It listed her personality: quiet, smart, resourceful. Now that didn't sound like him. He may be a bit on the quiet side, but he never hesitated to speak his mind when he felt it was important. Resourceful? Maybe. He skimmed the rest of the document, taking in what he could. Apparently, she was studying robotics during her brief time at St. George's college. Taking after their father? Perhaps. And then came her last official sighting: seven months prior in their father's house right before it collapsed.

He glanced up at Clay, who was watching him intently, unwilling to even move a muscle until he felt it necessary to do so.

"I...still don't remember that much."

Clay nodded, tapping the edge of the pen on the desk. "I understand. It's been a long time. What _do_ you remember?"

Sam tried hard to rack his brains. It wasn't even forty-eight hours ago that his normal life had been interrupted by this man's unexpected appearance at his apartment door, and now he was being asked to try and remember something his had only begun retrieving in his dreams since then.

His dreams. _Perhaps that's a good place to start,_ he thought.

"Well...I've been having some weird dreams these last couple of nights," he said softly.

Clay's eyebrows raised. "Dreams?"

"Yeah," said Sam, aware of how awkward it sounded. "Or at least I think they're dreams. I had one last night that seemed so real, it might have been a memory, like something that I'm remembering now that I'm back."

Clay nodded. "Okay. What was it about?"

"I was standing in a house, a small house, and I knew my way around it and everything, you know, like I'd been there before. And Charlie, she was there, and she was young. We both were. And my parents were there, too. I spoke to my dad about going to the restaurant because I was excited to see it, and I my dad said that he was working on something new, but I didn't know what."

Clay listening quietly. Part of him felt like he should take notes, but he wasn't sure what to write.

"I see," he said. "And...did anything else happen?"

Sam thought back to the end of the dream, a large animal-shaped shadow running toward him. That couldn't have actually happened, could it?

"Not really," said Sam. "I know it's not much, but it's all I remember."

"Okay," said Clay, putting down his pen and rubbing his face in his hands, clearly frustrated at the lack of useful information so far. "I want you to think back as far as you can. Do you remember Charlie as a kid?"

After hesitating for a few moments, replaying what he could remember from his dreams, Sam nodded slowly.

"Can you describe her for me?"

Sam thought about it for a moment before replying, "Energetic."

Clay raised an eyebrow again. "Energetic?" he said, caught off-guard by the answer. "Charlie?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Why? Was she not since you've known her?"

"I wouldn't say that," said Clay, "but I also wouldn't say she was energetic, either. She seemed a bit recluse at times, to be honest. That's not to say she didn't enjoy playing with her friends, including Jessica and Carlton, but she never really struck me as one to be 'energetic.'"

"Well, from what I remember, she was," Sam insisted. "We loved playing together. We played all the time, especially at our father's restaurant. We loved watching those animals sing and dance."

He began looking upward, the visions once again becoming clearer now that he was speaking about them. Clay listened in silence, remaining as still as he could and making every effort not to disrupt him.

"I remember the bear costume my dad used to wear," said Sam. "He told us he made it just for us so that he could fit inside and entertain us when if he wanted to. He-"

He broke off, another memory fragment suddenly snagging his attention. Like the others, it came without warning but was suddenly so clear.

_"I could snap off your nose!"_ his father had said as the metal in his hand snapped shut with a loud, startling noise. _"This is a spring lock, and I want you to know how it works because it's very dangerous, and I don't ever want you touching these. This is why we never put our hands in the animal costumes; it's very easy to trigger these if you don't know what you're doing, and you could get hurt."_

Sam could only marvel at how well he suddenly recalled the events. Kyle always did tell him that his ability to remember key details and use that to relay memories clearly was spot-on.

"He...wore the suit himself," he told Clay, who nodded in interest. "The suits were these hybrid suits that could function as animatronics and suits. My dad liked to wear the bear suit a lot."

Clay had begun scribbling notes down.

"And Charlie and I always loved when he danced for us. He knew how much we loved that. And-"

"Hold on a sec," said Clay, holding up a hand and finishing his sentence before putting the pen down. "Now, I know that you're obviously talking about a different restaurant. Freddy Fazbear's, the local one he owned when my son and your sister were kids, never had any hybrid suits that could be worn by someone. Not to mention when your father moved to town it was only him and your sister. What was that name you mentioned before?"

"Fredbear's, I think," said Sam. "Fredbear's Family Diner, or something."

Clay wrote the name down. "I've never heard of it. Do you know where it is?"

Sam thought for a moment but then shook his head. "I can't remember."

Clay sighed. "No matter. I'm sure we can find it with some digging. I'll get someone on it and see what they can find. In the meantime, I think it might do some good to show you around the town, let you see where a lot of this stuff happened."

Sam nodded and Clay began making another note. The phone rang and Clay groaned.

"Hello?" came a voice on the answering machine. "Hello? Hello? Chief Burke. Sorry to bother you again, but that man's back and he won't leave. He's got a sign this time that says BREAK THE CURSE. My wife is getting really nervous, and I am, too. I was wondering…"

Clay picked up the phone. "Scott? Chief Burke here. I'll let one of my officers know. They'll be right over, and I'll be there, soon."

He hung up and sighed.

"Trouble?" Sam asked.

"Well, yes and no," said Clay. "This particular neighborhood has been experiencing some problems as of late. Someone in town has taken the recent disappearances to mean that the town is cursed."

"Do you believe that?"

"I'm not sure. As Carlton mentioned, there's certainly been more than a fair share of bizarre things that have happened here, but I'm still a little skeptical about the town being cursed, especially if Afton really is gone."

"So what does this mean?" Sam asked.

Clay stood up. "It means, I've got something on my agenda to take care of. But fortunately, Jessica should be available this afternoon. I called her this morning to confirm. I think I'll leave your little tour of the town in her hands if you don't mind."


	6. Old Ghosts & Forgotten Memories

He pulled up to the abandoned house on the hill. He gave a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. He promised himself he wouldn't come back to this house...ever. Not after what happened. He only came back once since then, and yet here he was again, like a glutton for punishment back for his next dose of torment. Yet, something within him told him that this was where he needed to be. He didn't know why, but something told him that the answer to what he was looking for would be found here.

He exited his car and gazed up at the dark house, which seemed to loom over him much more so than last time. How long ago was that now? He couldn't even remember. He'd been traveling for so long, trying to find work wherever he could and just looking to never look back at the town or anything related to it. But now, he was drawn back to this house with no clue why.

With another heavy sigh, he took his first step toward the house.

* * *

Clay pulled up to Jessica's apartment complex. Sam noted how elegant the place looked. Just by judging the exterior, It was a step up from his and Kyle's complex in Chicago. He wondered how Jessica was able to support herself so well being a college student.

"Well, here we are," Clay announced as if they had arrived at a destination on a tour. He handed him a piece of paper. "This is her apartment number. Just knock, but if she's not home, Carlton says she hides a key under her mat."

Sam nodded and got out of the car, closing the door slightly harder than he intended to, and began walking slowly to the building.

"And Sam?" Clay called after him. He looked back. Clay's face had dropped significantly. He looked much more somber, and Sam couldn't help but notice months of physical and emotional stress and agony showing.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

They maintained eye contact for a few moments. In his middle-aged eyes, Sam felt a new force of concern looking back at him. Concern...and fear.

"Okay."

Clay gave a small nod and drove off. Sam turned his attention back to the apartment and walked inside.

The inside was nice, freshly decorated for Easter, with bright yellow paint all over the walls. The desk and doorframes were made from polished wood, presumably oak, and there were two large ceiling fans that spun noiselessly on the ceiling.

"Can I help you?"

Sam turned to the direction of the voice. A young man, blond, likely in his early twenties, sat behind the desk.

"I'm visiting someone. She lives here."

The man nodded and gestured to the stairs. Sam thanked him and began climbing. It was when he reached the third floor that something struck him.

_This place looks similar to mine, only cleaner._

As he walked down the hall, the realization turned into a strange sense of deja vu. It suddenly seemed like he had been here before. But he hadn't, had he? He still couldn't remember so many details that he probably should, but he was certain he had never been to this apartment complex before, especially with how new it looked. And yet, something seemed eerily familiar, like he was expecting to see or hear something.

_Sammy!_

There it was. That child's voice again, though this time he knew it was only in his head. Why was this suddenly happening to him, especially when he was walking by himself down an empty hallway? He shook his head violently as if he'd walked into a cobweb.

After only a minute, he found Jessica's door. He gave the door a few knocks, trying not to be too loud in case he was disturbing her. No answer. He knocked again, louder. Still nothing. He tried once more, louder than before.

"Hey!" came a loud voice. Sam jumped and turned around to find an older man peering out at him from the door across the hall.

"Um…"

"You here to see Jessica?" he asked in an almost fierce voice.

Slowly, Sam nodded, intimidated by this man.

"Tell her she needs to keep that radio down. I'm serious!" With that, he slammed the door, which was followed by the clear sound of a lock clicking into place.

Sam slowly turned back to Jessica's door, creeped out by the sudden intrusion of silence. As he looked down, he noticed a dark green welcome mat. He reached down and pulled it up, only to find nothing. Sam shook his head in confusion, but then noticed the key taped to the bottom of the mat.

"Wow. Impressive," he said, pulling it off. He stuck it in the lock and opened the door slowly, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

When he walked toward the kitchen and living room, he was immediately awed at how clean it was. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open some of the cupboards. Plates and glasses were stacked neatly according to size and style. The drawers had silverware packed neatly and utensils separated by use. Sam could only shake his head.

"Compared to Kyle, I thought I was pretty organized, but this blows that right out of the water."

He walked into the living room and noticed a small TV on a table and a sofa facing it. There was a small stack of books on the table that sat before it. Sam picked one up and read the cover.

_Archaeology, huh?_ he thought as he skimmed through some of the pages. It was textbook stuff with many pictures and diagrams. Nothing that important to him.

He placed the book back on the table and turned to the hallway that led to a bathroom and bedroom. He walked down the hall to the bedroom. It was about what he expected. Rather small, but still gave off a very strong sense of being Jessica's based on what he'd already seen. He noticed a poster showing a hand-drawn sketch of Broadway, and he was taken aback at how good it was. He almost thought it was his mother's at first, given how good it was. As he got closer to it, he realized…

_It IS my mother's!_

From her method of using lighter traces for further objects and darker lines for closer objects to her trademark style of putting the focus, in this case the theater, on one side with the street on the other and walking silhouettes in the distance, it all gave off his mother's style very clearly. Then there was also the fact that her name was clearly etched in the corner. _HANNAH ANDERSON_, written in her usual curved format.

He was startled by the sound of the door slamming shut. He jumped do much he knocked a lamp off of the nightstand. It hit the ground hard with a loud crash and countless broken pieces scattered all over the floor.

_Uh-oh. What have I done?_ He thought, looking back and forth between his mistake and the newcomer, probably Jessica.

"Hello?" came a worried voice from down the hall.

He saw a young woman walk into view down the hall.

"Jessica?" he called. "It's Sam."

"Sam?" She approached the doorway, a small brown bag in her hand.

"Yeah," he said, chuckling slightly trying to lighten the mood, only for his heart to sink when her eyes moved to the broken lamp on the floor. "Oh, that. I'm really sorry. Clay had something to take care of so he told me to wait for you. Said your key was under the mat. I was looking around and I saw the drawing here and you came in and it startled me-"

She held up her hand. "Don't worry about it," she said, a smile forming on her face. "To be honest, I never liked that lamp, anyway. It was a gift from my mother that I didn't really want."

Sam laughed nervously, still hesitant to believe his mistake was forgiven. She smiled back at him, taking in his characteristics that he shared with his sister, particularly his nervousness. Charlie was much more silent about them while Sam, it seemed, tended to ramble, but they both shared the same self-consciousness when it came to their presentation to others.

"Come on," she told him, trying to ease his worries. "Let's talk in the other room."

He followed her as she sat down on the couch and removed a large package from the bag.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Something for a project," she told him. "I study archaeology."

"Yeah, I noticed from your books. I couldn't help but look."

"That's alright."

"Seriously, I can pay for that lamp if you want."

"Sam, don't worry about it. It's alright." She set the package down on the table and sat back, crossing a leg and looking at him. "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk much yesterday. It was so late, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"How much did Clay and Carlton tell you?"

"Pretty much everything," said Sam, "at least from their end. There's a lot I don't understand."

"There's still a lot I don't understand, either," said Jessica. "And to think that only two years ago from right now I was living a normal teen life in New York."  
"Yeah, I saw your drawing in there. Of Broadway. You know my mother drew that?"

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Hannah Anderson, that's my mother. She's an artist. She specializes in all sorts of works. In fact, from what she told me, she and my dad met each other over one of her drawings."

Her eyes widened and a smile crept onto her face. He was definitely Charlie's brother, all right, excitement and all.

"So, Sam," she said. "What are you up to in Chicago?"

Sam shrugged. "Not much right now. I thought about going to college, but there's not really anything I want to go for that requires it. I'd much rather be a musician. That's why Kyle and I started a band back home. It's not much, at least not right now, but it's getting our name out there, hopefully. In the meantime, we both have our daytime jobs. I work in landscaping as a laborer, and Kyle helps his parents in their business. Just for the time being, you know?"

He gave a shrug, suddenly finding it uncomfortable to go on once again about his uncertain life back home. He was increasingly discovering with every confession how much of an insecurity it was. Throughout his school days, particularly in high school when he and Kyle began gaining some attention for their musical talents, he always prided himself in the fact that he was able to do something that people liked. The days of worthlessness, feeling like he had nothing to offer the world and would forever remain a nobody, seemed to be coming to an end. When the two of them performed at their talent show senior year and won the applause of the entire student body with an improvised rendition of Toto's "Hold the Line," he knew that he had found his true calling...or so he thought. When high school ended and the pursuit of a music career in the real world turned up no big fruitful results, even after several months, it felt like a big slap in the face. It seemed this cruel world had teased him, letting him feel like he had something to offer only to take those hopes away from him. He was only a young man with a talent that few seemed interested in, and who now found himself called back to his childhood state on possibly another fruitless venture to help find his missing sister.

He looked up and noticed Jessica's concerned look and realized he had obviously zoned out and was silent for a while. He cleared his throat.

"But anyway. Enough about me. What about you?"

Jessica gave a big sigh. "Well, your sister and I have been good friends since we were kids. We met in kindergarten when she and her dad..._your_ dad...moved into town."

"What was she like?" Sam asked, suddenly very curious about her. After all, Jessica knew much more about her than he could ever remember.

Jessica scoffed. "I loved her. We all did. We used to love playing games together. At recess, at Freddy's…"

"Freddy Fazbear's?" Sam guessed. The name still didn't ring any bells personally but he remembered the name from what he previously read and was told.

"Yeah. We played hide-and-seek in there all the time, before...well, I'm sure you heard."

"About the kids?"

"Yeah. One of them was a very close friend of ours, Michael Brooks. In fact, he's the reason why the rest of us got back together almost two years ago. There was a scholarship dedication to him."

"Yeah, I heard about that," said Sam. A small silence fell between them, both unsure of how to continue the conversation until Sam cleared his throat.

"So, uh, what about Freddy's? What was it like?" He was interested in hearing about some of his father's work since he and his mother left.

She opened her mouth, but then closed it, a thoughtful look appearing on her face. Finally, she spoke.

"It was truly a wonderful place. Kids from all over town wanted to have their birthday parties there. The arcade games were pretty fun, and the food was pretty good, too. But of course, the best of all were the animatronics...Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the rabbit, Chica the chicken, and Foxy the fox, singing songs all day long to the children. We had a lot of fun there." She gave a big sigh. "But that was before everything happened. The kids disappeared, the restaurant closed, and we all ended up going our separate ways...at least until recently."

"When did you last see my sister? Back then?"

"The day she went to go live with your Aunt Jen, the day your father-"

"Right," said Sam. That fact still bothered him, though not as much as he felt it should. If only he'd known his father more closely growing up, then it might have more of an impact. But alas, his father remained a fragment of his past that didn't seem to want to connect with his present.

Jessica stood up. "So, how about I show you around?"

* * *

"Where are we, Jeremy?" the young woman on the TV screen asked her colleague.

"I'm not sure," the man answered. "I think we may be about two clicks east of La Paz."

"You said that last time!" she yelled.

"Lydia, don't start!" he shot back. "I know where we are! It's just taking a little longer to get there, that's all!"

"It always amazes me how often in these movies people get lost," said Kyle, as he and Carlton sat in the living room watching a movie they had selected. Kyle was unfamiliar with it, but Carlton had seen it a few times before. On-screen, a married couple were in Bolivia filming a documentary but had gotten lost. According to Carlton, things were going to get interesting on their journey.

"Yep," Carlton agreed. "Happens every time. Guess what happens next?"

"Hmm, let's see. She forces him to stop and ask for directions at a suspicious-looking place?"

"Bingo."

They watched as Jeremy reluctantly pulled over to an old warehouse-like building.

"Now why would you stop there?" Kyle asked. "Clearly, it's abandoned."

"You never know," said Carlton with a smirk on his face.

"Hello?" Jeremy said cautiously with a knock on the door. "Is anybody here?"

"Check the door," said Lydia.

He gave her a concerned look and pushed on the door. To their surprise, it opened, revealing an empty hallway with chipped paint everywhere.

"Yeah, that's not suspicious at all," said Kyle skeptically, watching intently as Lydia handed Jeremy the flashlight.

Carlton scoffed. "Watch this. See if you noticed anything unusual."

As Jeremy and Lydia walked down the hall, their footsteps creaking with every passing moment, they noticed a cracked door down the hall.

"Something's gonna fly outta that closet," said Kyle.

Jeremy reached out his hand toward the closet door while Lydia grabbed his arm. The handle was pulled, the door cracked open. And then, with a loud blast from the soundtrack, three large birds flew out past them, knocking them over, and out into the air.

"Well, that was surprising," said Kyle, rolling his eyes. "I thought you said this movie had real scares in it."

"It does...if you're five," said Carlton, laughing. Kyle chuckled, too.

"Yeah? Is this how you felt during your incidents at Freddy's?"

Carlton stopped, his face dropping. Kyle immediately recognized his mistake.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that back up. It must have been hard for you."

"It was. I still have nightmares about it all the time. That's why Mom left, you know?"

Kyle nodded.

"But hey, as I said, things are ok, now. Can't keep living in the past forever, right? Gotta keep pushing forward somehow, even if it hurts." He gestured to his fragile healing body. Kyle thought back to something his father had brought up.

"So, is it true? About all those pranks you pulled?"

Carlton nodded, looking as if he'd take a bow for it if he could. "What's life without a few laughs here and there?"

"A few?" Kyle laughed. "That's not what I hear."

"Ok, so I'm a dedicated prankster," said Carlton, raising his hands in surrender. "Sue me."

"I don't doubt it," said Kyle.

"What about you? You seem to like being the class clown sometimes, too."

"Nah, I mainly stick to wisecracks, and even those I've toned down a bit, because of…" He trailed off, secretly hoping he wouldn't have to continue, but Carlton's visible interest wasn't fading. "Well, to be honest, I kind of started a fight with one of the toughest guys in school a few years ago. Johnny Wilhelm. Big guy, leader of the jocks, your typical jerk."

"What happened?"

Kyle winced. "He started poking fun at me, I said something back. I forget what. Sam probably remembers the details better than I do. We got more serious and personal, and then we ended up duking it out."

"What did you say?"

Kyle shook his head. "I forget," he lied. "It's been a few years." The look on his face was that of a man who lost something valuable. "Anyway, I try to be more careful with what I say. Nothing's worth getting beat up and suspended for."

"You got suspended?"

Kyle nodded. "We both did. Sam jumped in to help me, as did some of our other friends, but that didn't stop all of us from earning some bruises and cuts. My parents were pretty mad, but Sam's mom was absolutely furious. I didn't think I'd ever see him again. Thankfully, he managed to talk her into letting our friendship continue. It's still pretty painful and embarrassing to think about. Sometimes I wonder how Sam puts up with me so much when all I've done is annoy him to death and get him into trouble."

"Well, be thankful. Those are true friends for you."

"Yeah, you're right," said Kyle. "Anyway, I'm getting pretty bored with this movie. You got anything else we could do?"

Carlton looked over at him mischievously, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Well, I haven't been outta the house much lately and my dad pretty much refuses to take me anywhere unless it's important, but since you're here...you wanna go see Freddy's?"

* * *

Clay set his things down on the floor near his desk and sat down in his chair. He had just gotten back from yet another attempt to take control of a man who was now insisting that the curse is upon the town even more so that before and needs to be broken fast before someone else dies. Despite Afton being dead (or so they all hoped) and with no more children missing or dead, it still felt to Clay that something of this entire tragedy was still alive, and this crazy man was keeping it alive. "We must break the curse!" he shouted. "The curse is upon us! We must break it soon before it devours us!" Clay rubbed his face in his hands. All he wanted was to hopefully find Charlie as he promised her friends, and as long as this man continued his ramblings, it seemed like the past was never going to really go away.

"Sir?" came a voice from the door. Clay looked up to see Norah standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Norah, what is it?"

"You have a visitor who needs to speak with you immediately."

"Which line?" he asked, reaching for his phone.

"No, she's here in person, and she's frantic about something. She won't talk to anyone else."

Clay groaned. Boy, this day just kept getting better and better.

"Alright," he said getting up. "I'm coming."

He followed Norah out to the front where a woman stood right behind the front desk, her clothes ruffled indicating her rush to be here.

"Ma'am," he told her, and she looked up at him, a mixture of fear and fury in her eyes. "I'm Clay Burke. How may I help you?"

Recognizing his voice, she lowered her eyebrows.

"First of all, as I've told you before, I'm no longer married."


	7. Shadows of the Past

As Jessica drove through downtown Hurricane, Sam couldn't help but take note of how small the town really was compared to Chicago. He gave a small scoff. Jessica glanced over at him.

"What?"

"I was just thinking...this is everybody. I'm used to city life, ya know?"

"Oh, trust me. I know exactly what you're talking about."

"How's life in New York?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, it's not all cracked up to be. I have friends there, don't get me wrong, but there's something about being in a smaller, quieter town that feels right. I like being with my old friends from back then, you know? Besides, who needs to live the high life? This is where all the action is!" She laughed a nervous laugh, and he mimicked it, unsure of how to respond.

They drove in silence for a few moments. Jessica kept her eyes on the road, sparing only quick glances at Sammy every once in a while. Much like his sister, his silence gave off a sense of concentration, like he was trying to figure something out. She watched as his the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyebrows lowered, clearly lost in thought. He became mildly aware of this and turned slightly. Jessica took the hint and looked back to the road. Sam took this opportunity to get a good look at Jessica. She looked very similar to his sister, at least from what he'd seen in the photos, and her welcoming of his arrival last night and her hospitality to him now was heartwarming. He smiled. The anxiety he had felt about coming here were fading away with each passing moment. Although he was still happy that Kyle agreed to tag along, he'd begun to feel more comfortable in the presence of these new people in his life, Charlie's friends. He and Jessica had shared a humorous few more stories since they started their travels. Jessica talked about Charlie's messiness and her crush on John. Sam talked about the time in high school when Kyle was so busy telling a joke about their algebra teacher that he almost walked into the girl's restroom by mistake, and later tried to cover it up by claiming he wanted to check the gossip stall for any reports of who might be interested in him. They both agreed that it was hard sometimes being friends with such interesting people, but that was what made life interesting.

"So where are we going, exactly?" Sam asked when he noticed that they were heading away from town into the woods.

"Somewhere important," she said, her eyes suddenly turning remorseful with a glimmer of fear.

After five minutes, they turned onto a driveway. The remains of a police tape barricade with the words DO NOT CROSS were fluttering in the wind on a tree. Ahead of them was an empty lot.

"What is this?" Sam asked.

Jessica sighed. "This is where Charlie and your father used to live."

They exited the car and walked slowly to the center of the lot where it was obvious that something had previously been there before it was wrecked and a construction crew began clearing it out.

"What happened?"

Jessica clenched her eyes. When she opened them again, they were misty.

"Did Clay tell you about what happened here?"

"Yeah," said Sam. He thought back to the previous night's explanation. What was it that he said about this place? He tried desperately to remember, but since all he had to go on was a story told by someone he'd only known for a few days, the story still had many holes in his mind. He remembered him saying something about the entrance to an underground pizzeria. "So…where was it?"

She led him around to where the back of the house used to be. "It was here," she told him, pointing at were an opening had been sealed off months before by the police.

"So, the pizzeria was actually underground?" Sam asked, amazed. "And it belonged to that guy Afton? How did my father never notice it?"

Jessica shook her head. "I don't know. No one knew about it."

Sam put a hand to his head in confusion. An entire pizzeria, never been actually used, hidden below his father and sister's old house for years, and it was owned by none other than William Afton, the man who had once been his father's partner and would go on to terrorize the town with kidnappings. It was a lot to take in, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed as the new information and revelations continued flooding in.

"I still think about that day," Jessica said with a sniff, quickly wiping a tear from her eye.

"What's that?" Sam asked, unsure of whether or not to look at her while she began to cry, but she didn't seem to care.

"That night when we followed Charlie and those nightmare animatronics into that stupid pizzeria, when we thought we lost her. We fought that demonic machine to get her out as best we could, but…" She shook her head, trying to fight the rising emotions. "It doesn't matter. I keep having to remind myself that she didn't die that night, or at least I don't think she did."

"And that was when this other version of her appeared?" said Sam, still trying to piece the story together from multiple perspectives.

"Yes. We all believed it was really her, that she somehow survived, and apparently developed herself and her wardrobe a bit. We were all fooled, except for John."

"Where is John?" Sam asked. It hadn't really hit him until now that that name was still without a face to him.

Jessica shook her head. "We don't know. Nobody's seen or talked to him since the day we first visited Carlton in the hospital. He just disappeared. That's probably what concerns me the most. He told Clay that we wouldn't ever find Charlie. I don't understand. He and Charlie were very close, almost dating at one point." She smirked, remembering when they first met again at St. George's. "They probably knew about each other than any of us did." She shook her head again, more tears rising in her eyes. "Why would he leave us like that?" she cried, her voice growing shriller with every word. "Especially with no goodbye? He just tells us we won't find Charlie, _our _childhood friend too, and then leaves? What does he know that we don't?!"

Sam fought the urge to back away while Jessica unleashed her frustration. Instead, he stepped forward and put an arm around her. Feeling suddenly relaxed by a strange sense of comfort, she turned and hugged him. It was tight, even more than her greeting last night.

"I'm sorry," she said with a sniffle. "Things haven't been the same since this all happened. School's getting busier, too. Maybe I'm too stressed right now."

"It's alright," said Sam, patting her on the back.

They pulled apart and she wiped her nose. "Well, there's not much else to see here. Let's keep moving."

They turned to walk away when something caught Sam's eye.

"What's that?"

Over by the woods was a smaller patch of dirt indicating that a small structure once stood there, but the only remains of it were a few boards lying uselessly along the perimeter. He walked over to it.

"That was your dad's workshop," said Jessica, not following him.

Sam stood silently as he gazed upon the clearing, trying to imagine the small shed that once stood there. In his mind, he could see a building, paint coming off, tools scattered everywhere in different cups and containers, and a workbench that held something on it, whatever his father was working on. "Is this were my dad, you know, made…?"

"Made _them_? I guess so."

Sam stared at the empty lot for a few more moments. It seemed weird. He always viewed his father's workshop as something to be admired as a kid. After all, it was where the magic happened, where whatever new invention his dad came up with was made. It was like a portal to another world, his dad's world of creativity. But now, looking at the remains of his father's newer workshop, it seemed much less magical. Even if the structure still stood, Sam couldn't help but feel that it would've been an empty shell of that magic it may have once had. The memories of his childhood excitement becoming clearer, he sighed and turned to walk with Jessica back to the car.

* * *

He continued looking through papers, desperate to find something that could give him an answer to satisfy the longing within. What was he looking for? He'd already seen nearly everything of interest in the house. Tax information, pictures, the letter he'd heard her read aloud in their final hours together. It didn't make sense. There was a reason he never wanted to come back here, and yet something was telling him that he needed to be here, that an answer would come. He shook his head in frustration and kept looking through a pile. As he turned over more papers and artifacts from that same box they'd found before, something at the bottom caught his eye. Was it that letter she read to him? He bent down to pick it up and began reading it. No, it wasn't. It was a different letter, though the handwriting was the same, as was the name at the bottom. But the recipient was different. After a few moments of pondering, he stuffed the letter carefully into one of his pockets and kept looking.

_Someday_, he thought, _I'll find you and give this to you._

* * *

When Jessica pulled into the mall parking lot, they noticed another car parked nearby.

"What?" she exclaimed in surprise. "That's Carlton's car! But who-?"

"Kyle," said Sam with a sigh. "They've been hanging around together all day. Carlton may have talked him into coming down here."

"He shouldn't be out like this," said Jessica, parking next to the car. "He's still healing!"

Sam scoffed silently. _Sounds like something my mother would say._

They got out and peeked inside. Sure enough, Kyle's jacket was in the driver's seat.

"Well," said Sam, glancing up at the empty, destroyed mall. "Looks like we have another good reason for coming here."

Jessica groaned her face in her hands.

"If Clay finds out Carlton left the house, he'll kill him...and Kyle, too!"

"How much longer is Carlton supposed to be resting?" Sam asked.

"Last I heard, another month...at least!" Jessica said, frustration oozing through her tone like steam. "I should've known he'd take advantage of the opportunity to come back here."

"Why?" Sam asked. She looked at him, confused. "I mean, why here? This place doesn't look like it'd be fun to come to anymore with the way it is, not to mention what's happened here."

Jessica nodded, understanding his point. "It's not that. Despite everything that's happened here, it still has a special place in our hearts, the place that gave us joy as kids. It was also where...well, I'm sure you heard about Michael."

Sam nodded.

"We were all good friends with Michael, but Carlton was his closest friend. I think Carlton still feels a connection to him there."

"A connection to Michael? But I thought he said Michael moved on?"

"Yeah, I know, but this is where Michael was last seen alive, and where we had our first night of terror a few years ago. I think he still feels this place more than any other can remind him of Michael."

Sam looked up at the building, looking older and more decrepit with every passing second.

"Really? I don't see why returning to a place like this would bring back any memories, at least not in this state."

Jessica turned to him. "You'd be surprised how much emotions can get to you when you're reminded of someone you knew. No offense, but you don't understand. You've never lost anyone like we have."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, although as the words left his mouth, he thought back to his deceased father. _Why am I feeling nothing about him? Has it really been that long?_ He still vaguely remember his face, his kind loving eyes, his gentle yet firm voice. Obviously, Charlie was devastated by his death, according to what he heard from her friends, so why was it leaving such a little impact on him? Perhaps time had dulled his memories much more than he thought.

"Come on, let's go," said Jessica leading him into the building the same way she had several times before.

"I feel guilty," said Sam as he climbed through the window. "I know the building's abandoned and all, but I still feel like we're breaking and entering, and a guard's gonna come out and catch us."

Jessica visibly shuddered. "Don't remind me," she said, remembering their first meeting with William Afton disguised as a somewhat ordinary night guard the night he later kidnapped Carlton and began the chain of events that led to everything else that happened. She shook in disgust and continued.

Somehow, the mall looked even more empty than it did when she and Charlie came back seven months earlier. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed since then, but it still seemed like there was something different about the place, almost as if it were more unwelcoming than ever. Those mysterious yet friendly feelings of nostalgia she, Charlie, John, and Carlton had felt their first visit back were long gone. With each return trip, the place became more unfamiliar and even hostile. Now, with every step she took, she felt increasingly overwhelmed by a feeling that they weren't wanted there...ever.

"Here," she said, leading Sam to what remained of the entrance. After only a few moments, they stepped into the remains of the man dining room. She turned to him. "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Sam gazed around in amazement. Despite the fact that the building was in ruins, he still marveled at how large the place was compared to what he remembered from the much smaller Fredbear's Family Diner.

_Looks like Dad decided to upgrade_, he thought, gazing up and all around, doing his best to visualize the lively environment the restaurant once had.

"They've removed everything," Jessica explained, "and that was before the storm destroyed it. This is all that's left."

"Why didn't they just get rid of the building?"

"No one knows for sure, except that some people don't feel right disturbing this place."

Sam let out a _hmm_ and began walking around. The middle of the ground contained a large circle indicating that something big had once been there...like a merry-go-round.

"I used to love this," said Jessica, walking over to him. "I never wanted to get off. My parents told me I laughed and screeched all the time while I was on it, but I don't remember that. I rode it every time until Marla puked all over it one time."

Sam put up his hands and took a step back as if the contents of little Marla's lunch were still there. Jessica laughed.

"Yeah, I still feel that way about it, too."

Sam chuckled and looked around more. He always wanted to come to a place like this for a birthday party, but his mother never allowed him. He never understood why, but then again, he never understood why the two of them left his father and sister. He knew his mother didn't have that much money and did her best to get by, even buying him something nice every birthday and holiday, but he missed the atmosphere he remembered from his past. Granted, it would not have mattered much given Kyle's fear of animatronics. He'd asked him why one day and the only response he got was, _"They look so creepy and alive."_

"Oh, look!" Jessica said, bringing Sam back to the present. "I never noticed this before! Some of the drawings are still here!"

On the floor near where the stage used to be were a few papers. Jessica walked over and picked them up. She handed one to Sam and he looked at it. It was a hand-drawn picture of three children standing together smiling, and next to them was a yellow rabbit, smiling over at them with an arm outstretched toward them...a large, matted, furred arm. Maybe it was only his eyes, but with each passing seconds, the rabbit got closer and closer to one of them: a girl, based on the long brown hair.

_He stood over her, a smile on his face, and in a flash, he had her in his grasp. She gave one frantic look around for a sense of comfort but was given none. And then the two of them were gone._

"NO!"

His sudden shout startled Jessica, who had been glancing through some of the other drawings. She dropped one, and her audible gasp made Sam turn to her.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Am _I _okay?" she said, looking flustered as she reached down to pick up the paper that had fallen. "I think I should be the one asking you! What's wrong?"

"This rabbit!" he exclaimed, pointing frantically at the paper. He-"

He looked back at the paper to discover that it was still as it had been when he first looked at it. He thrust the paper back at Jessica and walked over to the center of the stage, leaping up and sitting on the edge, his face in his hands. Jessica set the drawings down and joined him.

"Do you know who that was?" she asked him. "The rabbit in the picture?"

Sam looked at her, embarrassment written all over his face.

"You mean, William Afton?"

Jessica's nostrils flared. "Yeah, that was Afton, although he once went by the name Springtrap, too."

"Springtrap?"

"That suit he wore, the same one he always wore, was old and gross, and it looked like it would malfunction at any given time. We saw him die once in it right here in this room...or so we thought. Your sister did it."

Sam's eyes drifted upward to the ceiling in thought.

_Springtrap?_ he thought. _As in the spring locks in the suit? The ones Dad showed us one time?_

He thought back to the memory of his father showing off one in his hand, and it hit him.

_Of course! Dad said those things were dangerous! Obviously, Afton didn't heed the warning or didn't think that he was in danger._

But what about Afton? If he was the one always in that particular suit, the same one he'd been dreaming about...was he in his dreams, too?

He looked over at Jessica, who was watching him intently. With Charlie, she'd usually interrupted her train of thought with a joke of some kind to tease her, but Sam's sense of humor was still a bit of a mystery, not to mention now wasn't the time.

"Jessica, did you actually see Afton...you know..._die_?"

She shook her head. "No, I didn't Carlton said he did, while he was still under the effects of whatever Afton did to him. I didn't, though."

"Could he still be alive, do you think?"

She shuddered again. "I hope not, but I can't say for certain. He'd better not be, though. This town is done with him and his crimes. Why do you ask?"

Sam sighed, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I think I remember him...from my childhood."

Jessica's eyebrows raised. "You mean...from when you were here? In Utah?"

"Yeah."

"When did you move, exactly?"

"When I was about three." He remembered celebrating his fourth birthday in Chicago, so he knew it had to have been before that. He'd also learned in psychology that the child's mind usually starts remembering details around that age.

"Did you meet him?" she asked. "When you and Charlie were kids?"

"I don't remember. We might have, but then again, we were both a bit shy." He scoffed slightly as he remembered both of them hiding behind their parents' legs in the presence of newcomers.

"Did you go anywhere like this?"

"Like...this?" He gestured to the building, and she nodded. "No, not since I lived here. We have lots of other fun stuff in Chicago, but nothing like this. I haven't been anywhere with animatronics since before we moved. My dad used to own a small diner with animatronics that he built. Fredbear's Family Diner."

Jessica's mouth dropped slightly. There was another restaurant? Why didn't Charlie ever tell her?

"Where was it?"

"I don't know. It's been so long."

"What was it like?"

"Like this, but much smaller. My dad really didn't have much money back then. It's amazing he was able to do all this after Mom and I left. It was only one main dining room and a stage with two animatronics, a bear and a rabbit."

"What color?" asked Jessica.

"Yellow. They both were."

Something flashed within Jessica's mind. Two summers ago, the night she, Charlie, John, and Carlton met in the diner for the first time in years, Charlie had mentioned Freddy being yellow. Jessica usually didn't pay too much attention to minor memory fragments like that, but Charlie had always proven herself to be more observant than that, and it made her curious as to why she would make such an error.

"But that wasn't all," Sam continued, oblivious to Jessica's mental tangent. "The suits were hybrids, meaning they could be worn by people or be animatronics, but if you wear them, you had to be very careful of the spring locks so they didn't go off and kill you."

"Like Afton," said Jessica. It was all making sense now, but why did Charlie never tell her any of this? Did she not remember it clearly enough, or was she that desperate to keep it to herself? If she knew Charlie, which she certainly did, Charlie knew how to open up to her best friends, unless it was very personal. Did something happen that she didn't tell anybody about?

"Did anything happen? At the diner?" she asked.

"I can't remember," Sam said again. "I'm sorry, but right now, most of that is still a blur. Maybe if I actually saw it again…"

"Well," she said, placing a hand upon his, "we can always try researching it."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Clay's plan, anyway? With finding my sister. It sounds like he's beating a dead horse, according to a lot of people he works with."

Jessica shook her head. "I don't know. It's been a month since any of us last saw her. It's tough, but we're fighting, trying our best to hold onto whatever hope we can that she's still out there somewhere, and we can find her and bring her home."

"Yeah," said Sam. "The only reason I'm here is because of this investigation. I'm still not sure how, exactly, I can help. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly up-to-date with my memories."

"That's alright," she said with a smile. "It's good to have you here, anyway."

"Glad I can provide good company," said Sam in a half-sarcastic half-genuine tone while returning the smile. "It just sucks that it has to be under these circumstances, looking for my sister, my dad being gone for a long time, sitting here in this abandoned pizzeria where I feel like any second something's gonna-"

A hand suddenly planted itself firmly on his shoulder. Jessica screamed and Sam rushed it off, ready to fight the intruder, only to be met with Kyle's smug face.

"Excuse me, but this place is off-limits!" he said with a laugh.

Jessica heaved while Sam got to his feet on stage and gave his friend a shove.

"You idiot! You scared the hell outta me!"

"Wasn't trying to," said Kyle. "I figured you knew we were here, but I wanted to see how you'd react. I don't think I've seen you panic that much since that one Halloween that fake spider dropped on your head."

Sam groaned in seething frustration. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you sneak up on people. Where did you come from anyway?" he asked, looking behind him.

"Over in the old arcade room. Carlton was telling me about the old ancient games they used to have back there!"

"_Carlton!_" Jessica shrieked in a voice so loud it startled Sam and Kyle.

From the dark hallway Kyle had gestured to came Carlton, slowly inching his way to the stage, trying his hardest not to keel over laughing.

"That was great!" he said in between breaths.

Sam threw up his arms in surrender and humiliation. Jessica's eyes burned in anger.

"What are you even doing here?! You're supposed to be at home resting!"

"What are you, my mom now?" he said, wincing slightly as her glare worsened. "Come on, it's been so long since I got to leave the house! Besides, it's been a long time since I visited Freddy's. I need to say goodbye, too!"

Despite the humor still showing on his face, his eyes looked serious, and Jessica relented slightly with a heavy sigh. _Well_, she reminded herself, _this is where he lost Michael. We all did. Maybe it is fair, after all._

"So where have you two been?" Kyle asked as they hopped down off the stage.

"We stopped by my dad's house," said Sam.

"What was it like?"

"There's nothing there. It was destroyed in a storm last summer and the debris was taken away."

"Shame I never got to see it myself," said Carlton.

"It wasn't that spectacular," said Jessica. "Just a house, really."

"Except for the whole underground pizzeria," said Carlton.

"Yeah, except for that."

"Where are you heading now?" Kyle asked.

Sam glanced at Jessica. "What did you have in mind?"

Jessica hesitated for a moment, lost in thought. Sam looked at Kyle and Carlton, both of whom looked as confused as he did. Then she spoke.

"Well, I wasn't sure about this at first, but…"

She broke off, still unsure as to whether or not her mind was truly made up.

"But?" Carlton asked.

She sighed. "Did you want to see where we found Charlie?"

Sam thought about it, still confused.

"You mean-?"

"The place where we found Charlie in the chest, where your Aunt Jen…"

"Ah." Sam understood why she hesitated. From what was described to him, that house saw too much gruesome action in such a short period of time, so it made sense why she was so nervous about going back. "Sure. We might as well."

"Can we come?" Carlton asked hopefully.

She shot him a concerned look.

"Come on, I want to come! Charlie's my friend, too, you know. If we find anything, I wanna help!"

She almost laughed at how childlike he sounded. She still wasn't completely on board with the idea, but perhaps a quick visit wouldn't hurt.

"Alright, but we're not staying long. We need to get you home, young man!" she teased.

"Yes, Mom," said Carlton with a laugh as they headed for the door.

* * *

Clay's heart sank when he saw his son's car gone from the house. When he noticed no one home, his thoughts began wandering.

_That boy doesn't know how to listen, does he?_ he thought furiously as he walked back out to his car. He got in and began driving to an old familiar location.

"Where are we going now?" the woman from the police station asked.

"To find some troublemakers," Clay mumbled, to which she huffed in response.

* * *

They pulled up to the bottom of the hill. Kyle stepped out of Carlton's car and gazed up at the house in amazement.

"You weren't kidding. This place looks creepy enough from down here!"

"Come on," said Jessica as the four of them began their journey up the hill, Carlton moving slower than the rest but doing his best to keep pace.

When the four of them got to the door, they noticed it was cracked open.

"Uh…" said Kyle nervously.

"Is there anyone else here that you know of?" Sam asked Jessica.

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Policemen or workmen doing something?"

She shook her head. "Not as far as I know. We didn't pass any cars or trucks."

"Then why would…?"

They all turned back to the door as the wind blew it closed slightly.

"Yeah, I'm not sure about this," said Kyle, turning to Carlton. "It's just like in the movies, right?"

"Shh!" said Sam, holding up a finger and inching his way to the door. He put his hand on it and gave it a small shove. Kyle winced, fully expecting something to jump out, but nothing did.

The door creaked open to reveal an empty hallway, completely quiet with nothing of interest. Sam stepped slowly inside, the others following cautiously behind him. They walked by the living room, which looked no different than the last time Jessica had seen it, only it was dustier.

"Check the back rooms," Jessica whispered, fear evident in her voice.

Sam walked softly and slowly down the hall, giving a quick look around in all directions with every step.

"This one," Jessica whispered, pointing at the door that lead to the room she and John had hidden in from Charlie's doppelganger when it attacked and brutally murdered her Aunt Jen.

The door was wide open. Sam glanced back at Kyle, who only shook his head, meaning: _Your call, but be careful._

Sam stepped carefully over the threshold of the room. It was a cluttered room full of boxes and chests. Artifacts were spilled all over the floor, as though someone had been looking for something. Sam took another step forward, eyes taking in everything he was seeing, looking for something of interest, when a large blow struck him on the back of the head. He gave a loud grunt and fell to the ground.

"Sam!" Kyle cried, attempting to rush in, but the culprit stepped out from behind the door, shutting it behind him. Sam recovered enough wits to turn and face his attacker before the next blow, but it didn't come. Instead, the man standing over him, who looked to be his age, was looking down at him in bewilderment.

Behind him, the door burst open.

"Hey!" Jessica cried, rushing in. "Leave him alone! This isn't your house, you-!"

But her anger turned instantly to shock when she saw his face.

"John?"

John didn't move a muscle to acknowledge her presence. His eyes were glued on the familiar yet different face below him. After what seemed like an hour, he spoke.

"Sammy?"


	8. Revelation

**A/N:** I greatly appreciate your patience. I have other things going on in life and want to make sure I'm uploading quality content. I hope it's worth the wait. Now buckle up. This one's a long one!

* * *

For a few long minutes, there was nothing but silence. Kyle looked back and forth between Jessica and John, clearly hoping for some explanation. Carlton was taking in John's appearance as if he'd come back from the dead, unsure of whether or not to believe his eyes. Jessica was still too shocked to feel anything else.

Sam looked up at John. What really stuck out was that he had a very rugged look. His hair was slightly longer than it looked like it normally would be, His clothes, though completely normal, were a bit ruffled not neatly pressed. He also was sporting a bit of a beard. Not the look of a homeless man, but it certainly appeared that he wasn't that concerned with keeping too much of a neat public appearance as of late.

John gazed down at the young man on the ground before him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He'd known Charlie for years, even though many of them were spent apart from her as they grew up. Still, he always had a special connection to Charlie, more than anyone else both when they were kids and recently. And now, Charlie was gone, or so he could only guess. After what had happened, he wanted nothing more than to get away from Hurricane and clear his head somewhere while trying to support himself as best as he could. Now, an inexplicable calling brought him back to Silver Reef, where he hoped he would find an answer. He'd been searching for hours already, trying to find anything that could explain what was happening, and it finally arrived in the form of a person, someone that he exclusively had been told about only recently by his twin sister: Sam Emily...if he went by that name.

He was so mesmerized by the similarities in facial features that he had forgotten about the rest of the world until Jessica cleared her throat loudly. He startled and reached out a hand.

"Sorry about that. I didn't expect anyone to show up," he said nervously, helping Sam to his feet, "especially...well..._you_."

Sam brushed himself off, continuing to maintain direct eye contact with John. "You mean...you _know_ me?"

John shrugged. "Kind of. Your sister mentioned you a lot. We were good friends."

"More than that," said Carlton. John turned to him.

"Carlton? How are you doing?" He walked over and the two embraced in a gentle hug.

"I'm alright. Still healing." He gave a small gesture to the area of his wounds. He gave a small chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood and reduce the awkwardness of the sudden unexpected reunion. John smiled. It really was good to see him again.

He turned to Kyle, the one face he didn't know. Kyle took the hint.

"Kyle Jackson," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Sam's friend. I was invited to come along to help with the search."

"Search?" said John, turning to Sam.

"The search for my sister. Clay's still looking for her, you know."

John stared long into Sam's eyes, and for a moment, the world around him once again dissolved. The shorter hair and budding facial hair forgotten, he could've sworn he was looking into Charlie's eyes, the brown eyes that he had come to admire and love whenever she looked at him in kindness or was lost in thought, the eyes that he now questioned were ever real to begin with. However, these eyes narrowed in confusion, bringing him back to reality as he found himself once again looking at Sam.

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a sudden violent shove from Jessica.

"What have you been?!" she cried, tears threatening to fall from her eyes once more, her voice breaking even more than it had before.

John recoiled slightly, taken aback by the sudden outburst, and took a step back, but she only followed.

"Jessica…" he protested, holding up his hands.

"Why did you leave us like that?!" she screamed, getting closer. "We've been looking all over for Charlie...and for you! We haven't seen Charlie since she was with you, and you left us at the hospital with no hope that we would ever see either of you again! She's _our_ friend, too, you know!"

"Jessica, I-"

"No, listen!" Her fury was beyond intimidating now. "I can't believe you would do that to us! We needed you, and you were gone!"

"Jessica, please!" Sam interjected, stepping between her and John. "This isn't helping."

She blinked in frustration. "Sam, you don't understand! You've only heard what's happened here, but you haven't actually experienced it! Charlie may be your sister, but you don't know her as well as we do. We were best friends, and so were she and John! They always spent time together when they were here!" She looked back at John, her anger giving way to sadness once more as tears began falling again and her voice broke. "They were almost inseparable. They never liked to admit it, but they were practically sweethearts! Every time I saw them together, I always felt that there was something between them that I wasn't a part of, and it drove me crazy! I When Charlie disappeared again and Clay couldn't find her, I thought for sure John would be there to help us, that he knew something that we didn't. But instead, he left us with no explanation as to why! Right when we needed him the most!"

She couldn't go on. She knelt down with her head in her arms, sobbing. John bent down and helped her to her feet, guiding her to a stack of boxes to sit on.

"Jessica, I'm sorry about that," John said, patting her on the shoulder as she continued sobbing into her arms. "I really am, but...well, it's hard to explain."

"What is?" Carlton asked, moving toward them a few steps.

John looked at him, the hesitation evident in his eyes. "What happened here last month. What's _been_ happening all along."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

John sighed. "Charlie's not who you think she is."

"What does that mean?" asked Kyle. John turned to him, having forgotten that there was a new face in the group.

"You don't understand," he told him simply, turning to look between the others, particularly Carlton and Jessica. "None of you do."

"Then help us to," said Jessica, bringing her face out of her arms and glaring at him with wet eyes.

"Yeah, what are you not telling us about Charlie?" Carlton added.

John remained silent, looking between Carlton, Jessica, and Sam, all of whom were waiting anxiously for him to say something. But what? He remembered back when Charlie first took him to Fredbear's Family Diner, and they made a commitment to not tell anyone else. It was a secret..._their_ secret.

_"John, I don't want to tell anyone about Fredbear's."_

_ "But-yeah. I think we forget this is your life and not just some adventure. It's fine; I can keep a secret."_

_ "It's all our lives. We were all there. We can tell them later; I just want to sort some of it out for myself right now."_

_ "You got it."_

It seemed like so long ago now, and it was...almost two years, yet the memories of that place were still very clear. And that was before everything else happened: the nightmare at Freddy's, the twisted animatronics, the underground pizzeria, the two Charlie's, the robot in the hall. No, he wouldn't think of that. Not right now. This was about Charlie, and the promise he made to her that they wouldn't tell the others until the time was right. He'd spent some time thinking about that while he was away for the last month, but his focus was always too unhinged to come to any decision. He thought back to the last time he saw Charlie, and what she meant by her final words before she disappeared. She had seemed so...content, which he found odd given their last encounter together in none other than this very house. It was all a blur to think back on even now, which was why he had wanted nothing more than to get away from town to clear his head. No words could console his aching mind after what he'd been through. He needed to be alone, to get away and try his best to wrap his head around everything that had happened since that fateful day they reunited for Michael's ceremony.

He always thought back to that promise he had made to Charlie about keeping her past between them. Part of him kept shooting down the very thought about telling them. It seemed like such a dirty thing to do, like he was betraying his own best friend after her death. But then again, she did say that there might come a time later to tell someone, and she never would have guessed that her twin brother would eventually come to town for the very purpose of looking for her.

After a few silent minutes of debate, John looked at Sam again, who only stared back at him wearing a familiar expression, the one Charlie always wore when he had interested her with something.

Finally, with a knowing sigh, he decided that the time had come.

"Sam, do you remember Fredbear's Family Diner?"

Sam was visibly taken aback, as was Jessica. Though they didn't realize it, they were both thinking the same thing: _How does he know this? How much of this did Charlie tell him?_

"Yeah," said Sam. "Vaguely, but yeah. What about it?"

John opened his mouth, then closed it again. Where to begin? In all his wrestling with whether or not he should come clean to the others about this, he never imagined he'd be speaking directly to Sam when it finally came out.

"Do you remember what happened on Halloween night of 1982?"

Sam frowned, thinking back. Did he? He'd barely begun to remember the place at all. A specific date like this? That was a new challenge. He was only three, give or take, but then Halloween is a unique day of the year.

"I might. I mean, it's been a while since I've been there. If I could see the place again, maybe it would help, but I doubt it's-"

"It's still there," John interrupted. "It's old and dusty, but it's still there."

Sam was shocked. "It...it is?"

John nodded. "Yeah."

"You've been there?" Jessica asked, getting up. She looked like she wanted to say more, but Sam spoke first.

"What's it like?"

John shrugged. "About what you'd expect, given its age."

"No, I mean, what is it like, compared to Freddy's?"

"Smaller," said John. "A lot smaller, but it still looked like something your dad would've run."

"Can you take me there?" Sam asked.

John stared into Sam's eyes once more. Despite the sadness of knowing what would later happen, John almost smiled when he once again saw some of Charlie in his expression. That excitement she had when it came to things like this he always loved about her, even though it was quenched in these later years by old scars.

"Yeah, I can take you there."

Sam's expression remained unchanged for a few moments, but then his mouth crept up into a smile. Despite the evident nervousness and hesitation in John's voice and eyes, Sam couldn't help but feel an odd sense of excitement. After hearing stories about tragic and weird events and seeing several places that he did not recognize, there was a feeling of comfort in the thought of visiting somewhere he would actually remember. He nodded.

Jessica shook her head. She loved Charlie and John, but her envy of being excluded from this inner circle of information was growing. Why didn't they ever tell her about any of this? Did they not trust her? Was she not important enough? She gave a deep sigh in frustration.

Carlton was having similar thoughts, though he was still preoccupied with the fact that John was back. He had a good bond with John, but he knew that he and Charlie were much closer than they were. He even teased them on a few occasions about it. Now with Sam here, that bond looked to continue, though not in the same way.

Kyle remained standing where he had for the past several minutes, not wanting to interrupt the events before him. He'd seen Freddy's already, stripped and barren as it was, and now it looked like this newcomer to the group was taking them to another. He gave a small scoff of delight at the thought of Sam returning home, so to speak, going back to a place he actually remembered. Kyle was always interested in Sam's past that not even he remembered that well. He'd asked him on several occasions to no avail. Now, they both would see it for themselves.

John nodded. "Follow me."

* * *

The car pulled into an empty parking lot at the mall where Freddy Fazbear's skeletal remains still stood. Clay stepped out and noticed the empty parking lot.

"Huh. They're not here," he said.

"Were they supposed to be?" the woman asked, her annoyance and impatience growing still with each passing minute.

"I was certain that they would be," said Clay, getting back into the car. "Knowing my son, this is the place he would come to. He's been bugging me about bringing him here for a while. He still has nightmares about this place, but I think he still wanted to come back just to see it again."

The woman remained silent. Clay grew nervous, expecting her to lash out in another bout of anger, but instead, she seemed lost in thought about something.

_Nightmares…_

Then it hit her.

"I think I know where he might be."

Not sure exactly who she was referring to, he listened to her directions and they pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

_April 14, 1999_

_I don't think this town knows how to take a breath. It's only been a day since I got here, and I've been told so much about what's been going on and seen so many new places, it's hard to comprehend. Here I thought that I'd be spending most of my time sitting in an interrogation room or something, answering questions that I may or may not know the answer to. But this is so much different. I feel like I'm interrupting something, like the memories and impact of this town are still lingering and affecting people and I'm joining the party out of nowhere. That's probably what is still getting to me the most. I feel unnecessary, like it's still a waste of time for me to be here, but so far everyone seems glad I came._

_ Jessica's been so kind to me. I can tell she and my sister had a lot of history together, as they all do. I wasn't sure what to expect when I came here as far as people were concerned. Her hug last night, her generosity to me today, her feelings she shared with me. I never thought that such an immediate bond was possible. But then again, I've been friends with Kyle Jackson, arguably the weirdest guy on the planet, for years, and I remember we hit it off pretty well, too. Even though I don't know her that well, I feel sorry for her, and I can only imagine what she's going through._

_ Carlton? Not sure where to begin with him. He and Kyle seem to hit it off pretty well, which is nice. I'm still a little worried, though. I've heard some interesting stories about his antics. If Kyle starts pranking me all the time when we go back, I may need to give both him and Carlton a piece of my mind, which probably won't do much anyway, but if nothing else, it'll give them a laugh._

_ And then there's John, who apparently was the closest friend my sister had and disappeared on everyone right after this mess at the new restaurant. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about him just yet. I know he's surprised that I showed up after everything Charlie apparently told him about me, but some of the silent looks like he's been giving me are kind of creepy. I know I shouldn't be quick to judge. After all, he seems like a friendly, handsome guy when he's cleaned up. Maybe it's the trauma that's gotten to him a bit._

_ He's taking me to Fredbear's. I'm actually going to see Fredbear's again! I wonder if I'll remember it as well as I can in my dreams. I never really believed in visions much, at least not through dreams, but what if this whole thing really is some sort of weird calling? It's hard to describe, but for the first time since coming here, I feel like I'm finally going home. _

* * *

John gave a quick glance to his right to notice Sam putting a small notebook and pencil away in his lightweight jacket pocket. John had insisted that Sam ride with him, to which Jessica had to force down a protest. She was following them in her car, and Kyle and Carlton were following in the back. They were going beyond the city limits, not that Hurricane was that big of a town anyway. He gazed at the mountains set against the orange evening sky. The fields were growing larger and the houses were getting fewer. Sam glanced over at John, unsure of what to say. He kept staring out the windshield as he drove. Sam cleared his throat, and John blinked noticeably and turned to him.

"So, were you and Charlie ever…?" He placed his fingers together to illustrate.

"Oh, no. No. Nothing like that," he said, his nerves evident in his shaky voice. Despite being Charlie's twin brother who shared many of her features, Sam was still a stranger, and John felt very uncomfortable opening up too much about his relationship with Charlie, not that it ever did really go anywhere beyond being close friends. Then again, he was literally leading them to the place that started everything, where the truth behind all of the trauma lay isolated and forgotten. He sighed deeply. "No, we were never _that _close, although I sometimes wished we were. Your sister was special. I knew that when we were kids. There was something between us that I could never explain. I wanted her to be happy, to trust me, to be there for her when she needed. Of course, we were just kids, but even these last few years, those feelings never really went away. At least not for me. She told me things that she never told anyone else, and I felt so privileged that she would trust me the way she did."

Sam couldn't take his eyes off of John. He noticed his voice was starting to break ever-so-subtly, and his eyes were showing signs of watering. Sam looked away when he noticed this. Now he was becoming even more uncomfortable and out-of-place like he was unworthy of being in the presence of people so deeply affected by these tragic events while all he could do was listen.

"Where do you think she is?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," said John. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

"When did you last see her?" said Sam. "What happened?"

John hesitated, groaning in frustration. "It's hard to explain. It really is. Let's just get to Fredbear's first. Your sister remembered a lot, but hopefully, you can remember better."

Remember better? What did that mean? Sam was about to ask when they suddenly found themselves staring down a forgotten, weed-filled gravel path, illuminated ominously by the car's headlights.

"Is this it?"

John nodded.

* * *

Jessica's breathing was intensifying as she followed John out of town. She still couldn't believe that John had was back as suddenly as he had disappeared, all without warning. In her anger, she thought for a moment if he was a phantom but quickly dismissed the idea as being stupid. Still, why wouldn't he tell them where he was going? Or where Charlie was? Why was he being so secretive? Did he not trust her? Was she not worthy of whatever secrets they shared with one another? It never really bothered her...until now, when they both disappeared without so much as a goodbye.

She watched as they drove further and further away from town, and she couldn't help but wonder where they were going. Sam never specified were Fredbear's was because he couldn't remember, but John obviously knew exactly where they were going, somewhere Charlie had clearly shown him. But where? It didn't look like they were anywhere anymore. Why would an old family restaurant be way out in the middle of nowhere like this? It didn't make sense. Charlie's dad, though a little quirky and off in his own world sometimes, never really struck her as being this distant with his work. Perhaps there was more to him than meets the eye. She knew that wholeheartedly after trusting a dangerous robot to be her best friend. She still thought back to that animatronic face splitting apart to reveal the endoskeleton underneath, and Charlie's voice coming through telling her to trust her. She shivered and came to a stop as John did ahead of her.

* * *

Kyle drove behind the pack with Carlton sitting next to him. Despite their earlier conversations being full of laughter and joking, the car ride was now quiet. They barely even looked at each other, let alone spoke. One thought was running clearly through both of their minds: _Are we about to find out about Charlie?_

Kyle was still curious about her. Prior to Clay's unexpected arrival at their doorstep, he'd never known anything about Sam's early life, especially his twin sister. He thought about what she was like. Did she share his quirkiness and artistic passions? Or was she more quiet and reserved? For the first time since they had arrived in Utah, he suddenly found himself growing excited at possibly meeting Sam's sister. If she was anything like Sam, she'd be friendly and caring, holding firmly to her beliefs and always loyal to her friends, even those who constantly give her grief.

Carlton was lost in thought. Did John really know where Charlie was? Why wouldn't he tell anyone? Avoid this search and rescue that his dad still had going on? He missed Charlie, enough that he had forgotten as best he could the good-looking yet terrifying duplicate that had been wandering around. None of that mattered anymore. After a month of nothing to do but stay at home and pass the time, he wanted nothing more than his childhood friend to be found and brought home. Hopefully, wherever it was they were going, they'd find Charlie there, safe and sound, with her trademark smile and one of her usual comments like: "What took you so long?" They could only hope.

"Carlton?" Kyle finally asked, breaking the silence. "Have you ever been to where we're going?"

"No. I didn't know Charlie's dad had another restaurant."

Kyle sat back in his seat as he continued to drive. After another five minutes of silence, they stopped with the others.

* * *

Five doors opened and five people got out of their cars, standing beside one another looking down the dark road ahead of them.

"Down there?" Kyle asked. "That doesn't feel right."

"Yeah," Carlton agreed. "You sure this is a good idea, John?"

John continued staring back down the path, which looked much more menacing at night, like a road into literal darkness ready to swallow unsuspecting travelers. It occurred to him that he hadn't been back here at all since the day Charlie brought him here forever ago. He almost forgot what it looked like himself.

"Yeah," he said. "We have to. Do you have a flashlight, by any chance?" he asked Jessica.

She shook her head. "I usually don't need one. That's Charlie's department, remember? Besides, I didn't think we'd be coming out here tonight," she said irritably.

John got the message and turned to Carlton. "Carlton?"

"Yeah, I think I've got a small one in my glove compartment."

Kyle found it, a black one that looked like it could fit on a keychain. Carlton nodded.

"Yeah, that's the one. Guess Dad was right. Never know when you'll need it."

"It'll do," said John, taking it and leading them down the path.

Despite the fact that there were more people here than last time, John couldn't help but feel a little nervous himself. When Charlie brought him here almost two years ago, they encountered nothing but old memories. But now, it seemed like such a different world, like the memories would literally come alive and they would get jumped by old animatronics.

He suddenly became aware of someone walking next to him. Judging by the breathing, it was Jessica. He turned, and sure enough, she was there, sticking close to his side but keeping her eyes fixating on the path ahead of them. He sensed another talk coming, a private one. He didn't want to think about it.

On his other side, Sam remained silent and completely oblivious to any quiet conversations as he studied his surroundings. So far, nothing looked familiar. He racked his brain trying his best to find something, anything, in the growing darkness that stood out in his mind, a memory fragment that would jump out and scream at him: "I'm right here! Remember me?" But nothing was...so far.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Is this really where you used to go as a kid?" Kyle asked quietly in his ear.

"I think so," Sam whispered back, giving a quick glance to John. "It's been so long."

Kyle nodded and said nothing else.

Meanwhile, Jessica could take it no longer. She leaned over.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, careful not to cause another scene in front of the others.

"Tell you what?" asked John, hoping she'd drop it.

"About everything? Charlie, her brother, this place. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It's complicated," was all he could say. "It's difficult to explain."

Her face flushed in anger again, visible even in the low light.

"Seriously, where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I just...I had to get away for a little while. What happened since you last saw Charlie is still confusing even to me. I doubt you'd understand it better than I can if I just told you, no offense."

Her face flushed again, but she said nothing.

"I'm sorry," he said again, hoping desperately she'd believe him. "I really am. I didn't want to just leave you without hope or anything, but I was too much in shock talk with anybody. I needed the time away."

She remained silent for a few more moments, and John wondered what comeback she would have. With her, it was a mystery. Sometimes her responses were tender and understanding, other times they were much sharper and more critical. Finally, she gave a heavy breath, her frustration still clearly noticeable.

"Okay."

They turned toward forward and continued walking until they eventually came across a small building in covered in weeds.

"Whoa," said Kyle. "What happened here?"

"Age," said John. "This place hasn't seen any visits in a long time...except me and Charlie."

It looked even older than how it did when he last saw it. Perhaps it was the darkness combined with the continuing effects of aging. If anything, it looked like it had gotten smaller somehow, like there was no way that even a small diner could have ever fit inside.

"Cool," said Carlton. "I mean, kind of old, but it's...yeah."

"What do you think, Sam?" Kyle asked.

Sam stared at the outside of the building. It didn't look that spectacular, really. The unimpressive roof, the decaying structure, the paint peeling off the walls…

_Wait,_ he thought. _I remember the paint. It was red._

And then, in his mind, he saw the building in its glory days. The paint was blood-red, the roof a magnificent black reflecting the sunlight, the foliage around it replaced by beautiful trees, including the one in front.

He saw the tree, still standing there, its branches forking out like fingers.

_"Daddy, is it going to get me?" Charlie asked, clinging to their father's shirt as they passed by._

_ "No sweetheart, because Daddy always gonna be here to protect you and keep you safe."_

Sam always did find that it was a bit creepy, but he never paid too much attention to it as a kid. He was always too keen on getting inside to see the animatronics.

Without thinking any more, he began walking toward the building, with John and the others following closely behind. He approached the entrance, an old door that looked like it was ready to fall off its hinges. He reached out and pulled on it, expecting it to be locked, but to his surprise, it opened easily.

"Hey, check this out!" Carlton said, shuffling over to the side of the door and reaching down to pick up a sign. Although the sign itself was old and rotting, the red letters were still completely legible:

FREDBEAR'S FAMILY DINER.

Sam felt a sudden rush of nostalgia. John noticed a small smile on his face and couldn't help but smile himself.

"Welcome home, Sammy."

They looked at each other for a moment and smiled. Once again, Charlie's smile shone through his, and Sam couldn't help but suddenly feel that he knew John closer than he ever had before. What did they say about twins having a certain connection?

They pulled open the door and entered the old abandoned dining room. Sam led the way inside, the others followed behind him.

Immediately, the stale air of a building that hadn't been visited in a long time filled their nostrils. Jessica scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Really! That is nasty! It smells like something was butchered alive in here."

"It does not," said Carlton, rolling his eyes. "Besides, what did you expect, air conditioning and perfume?"

She shot Carlton a warning look. "Shut up! I'm just saying even Freddy's didn't smell this damp! No, this place really needs some air freshener...and some paint!"

John looked around the unfamiliar room. Despite all the time that had passed, it felt just like it did last time he and Charlie were here like no time had passed at all. He even felt tempted to explore the kitchen area again go see if there was anything of interest back there since last time, but he held back and stuck close to Sam.

"Dude, this place isn't that bad!" Kyle exclaimed, walking over to the counter where the cash register once stood. "I mean, it's a fixer-upper and all that, but it doesn't look like a bad place to eat! Sure beats having to deal with all those lunch and dinner rushes back home!"

"Tell me about it," said Sam. He turned to the stage, the empty platform over by the end of the room. He began walking over to it. As he did, images of two animatronics singing and dancing came to mind. He stopped at the edge of the platform and put his hand on it as if hoping that would bring back the memories. It seemed to work.

He suddenly saw an animatronic bear and rabbit in front of him, singing a song that he and Charlie never liked hearing, the farewell song at the end of the day.

_"So now our day is done!_

_ But don't be filled with sorrow!_

_ With the rising of the sun,_

_ We'll say hello again tomorrow!"_

He couldn't help but let a tear fall from his eye. It's been a long farewell this time, and part of him hoped this was just a dream, that the place was simply closed for the day and he'd come back tomorrow to find his dad and sister waiting for him, and the animatronics would be there dancing, and everything would be alright. Maybe his dad would even put on the bear costume again and give him and Charlie their own private dance and song. But no, that wouldn't happen. Those days were long gone.

"So this is it?" Kyle's voice startled him and he jumped. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. So this is where they were?"

The edge in his voice gave off his anxiety. Oh yeah, he was still afraid of animatronics. No doubt he was wary that they were still around.

"Yeah," said Sam. "This is it."

"Wow. So they really, like, performed and stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Did they sing?"

"Yep. Every day."

"Did they play instruments?"

Sam chuckled. Kyle's interest was always awoken when it came to music. Even when it involved something he was otherwise not fond of, the mention of music perked his ears.

"No, they didn't," said Sam. "They just sang and danced, they never played anything. At least…" He paused, his memory activating again. "...I don't think they did."

And then, in his mind, a rabbit appeared, but it wasn't the yellow one he was used to. It was purple, and it stood with a bass guitar in its hands. It didn't make sense. He clearly recalled that there was only two animatronics, both yellow, and neither one played.

_"Do you know what this is?"_

It was his father's voice. Once again, it came upon him suddenly and seemed so crystal clear that it could have been yesterday.

_"No, Daddy. What is it?"_

That was his question. And then it hit him. He remembered being at home the day his father finally showed him, and only him, the new inventions he was working on, early versions of new animatronics.

_He stood in the doorway of his father's workshop. He'd only seen inside it one other time, and it was brief before his father kindly told him to get out while he was working. But this time was different. He wasn't working. He was showing him and sketch of his newest idea._

"_This is a rabbit. Do you know who he looks like?"_

_ "Bonnie!"_

_ "That's right. He looks like Bonnie, but he'll be a different color."_

_ "Does he sing?"_

_ "Oh, yes. He sings, but that's not all. You know what else he does?"_

_ He shook his head no with great enthusiasm, eager to hear the answer._

_ "He plays, too. You see this?"_

_ He gestured to the bass guitar with his pencil. _

_ "You know what this is?"_

_ Another head shake for no._

_ "This is called a guitar. You play it like this."_

_ He put the paper down and moved his hands into the position of a guitar player._

_ "Wow. How does it make noise?"_

_ "How does it make music, my son," he corrected. "Simple. There are strings that go from here…" He motioned from where his left hand held the imaginary neck. "...to here…" He motioned to the area next to his right hand, where the imaginary knut was. "...and you move your hands to play the strings like this." He moved his right hand in a strumming motion. _

_ "You mean like this?" Sam asked, doing his best to imitate the motions._

_ "Yes, just like that," his father said, beaming._

_ "Do you play the guitar?"_

_ Henry laughed. "No, I'm afraid not. I only design and build the animals. I don't really play._

_ "So how do you teach the animals to play?"_

_ Henry laughed again, ruffling his son's hair. "That's a secret."_

_ "I wanna learn how to play this!" sad Sam, pointing at the drawn guitar on the sketch. "Then maybe one day I'll be good and can play with animals." _

_ Henry smiled. "I'm sure you could," he said, pulling him onto his lap. Sam continued gazing down at the image below him and trying to mimic the movements he was shown. One day...he would learn how to play and make his dad proud._

"Dude, what are you doing?"

Once again, Kyle's voice jerked him out of his memory. He looked down and noticed his hands were in the position he had been remembering, holding an imaginary instrument.

"I was remembering."

"Remembering what?"

Sam gazed at the empty stage for a moment, as if his description would bring the image to life.

"Remembering my dad showing me one of his new animatronics."

Kyle grimaced slightly. "What was it?"

"A rabbit," he said, turning to face his friend, only to discover that John was standing there beside him, and Jessica and Carlton had both ceased their investigation of the kitchen and counter and were walking over to him as well. "A rabbit...just like the one here, only it didn't just sing. It played the guitar, too."

"Bonnie!" said Carlton, and Jessica nodded. "Was he purple?"

"I don't know," said Sam. "It was just a sketch of my dad's, but I remember him showing it to me, and I remember…" He trailed off, his hands once again holding an imaginary guitar. "...I remember him explaining how to play the guitar. I wanted to play the guitar." He turned back to the empty stage. "That's why I wanted to learn how to play the guitar. It was because of my dad, and his ideas."

He stared at the empty stage for a few moments. Carlton was about to say something, but Kyle held up a hand.

"Let him think. You don't want to pull him out of his thoughts like this," he whispered with a grin. "Trust me. I know."

Suddenly, a car door slammed outside making them all jump.

"Who's that?" asked Jessica.

"I don't know," said Carlton. "Was there anyone following us?"

"Not as far as I saw," Kyle insisted. "We're alone in the middle of nowhere."

Frantic footsteps approached, and before any of them could react, the door swung open violently and two flashlights filled the room, immediately landing on them and blinding them. The one on the right lowered to reveal Clay.

"Dad?" said Carlton.

Clay's eyebrows lowered dangerously. "You and I need to have another sit down later," he said in a stern voice, so dangerous-sounding that John and Jessica both took a step back in fear. Kyle raised his hand to try and distinguish the other figure.

"Who's-"

The second flashlight lowered to reveal a familiar face with long flowing brown hair and fierce eyes that felt like canon's ready to single handedly sink a battleship. Sam's jaw dropped.

"Mom?"

She took a few slow steps toward them, never taking her eyes off of her son.

"Samuel Henry Anderson. What on earth are you doing here?" Her voice sounded even lower and more dangerous than Clay's, and Kyle bit his fist in anticipation of the brewing storm. He'd seen that fierce look in her eyes once before, and he'd hoped he would never have to see it again.

John, Jessica, and Carlton stared speechlessly at the newcomer. John could only shake his head. This night had gone from somewhat normal to completely shocking in a matter of hours. First Charlie's brother, and now her mother. Seven people gathered in a small abandoned dining room, brought together by old memories and new missions.

Sam's eyes never left his mother's. He swallowed hard before finally opening his mouth.

"Hi, Mom," was all that came out in a very weak, raspy tone.

Without changing her face, she took another few steps over to him, her breathing visible from all the way across the room.

"H-how did you know I was here?" he asked.

Now her face stiffened. She looked insulted. "Sam, I get a call from him-" She jabbed a thumb in Clay's direction. "-telling me that he wishes to bring me, to bring _us _back to this horrid place to try and find your sister, and a week after I say no you leave me a note that says you're leaving for a few days? And yet you took all of your long-distance things and your suitcase, which you never use for anything else. I know you better than that, young man!"

Beneath his intimidation, Sam scolded himself. Why couldn't he have made it more ambiguous?

"Mom, I-"

"Figures," she said, not even giving him a chance to explain himself. "Figures you would be curious. I knew I should have warned you about this, but no. I thought just by telling you it would make you curious, so I let it go. Turns out that was wrong. Now here we both arm, thousands of miles away from home, in a place I swore to myself we would never come back to...ever! Oh, Sam. This is the stupidest thing you've ever done. Why did you talk him into bringing you here?!"

"Mom, he said I could-"

"What? Find Charlie? It's not good to live in the past, Sam. I told you many times growing up that we weren't ever coming back to see them again because it's for the best. And now, I know precisely what's best. You're coming home with me right now! _Both_ of you!" she added, glaring angrily at Kyle.

She stepped forward and reached for Sam's arm, but he wrestled out of her grip and jumped back.

"No, Mom!" he shouted, startling everyone. She blinked, confused and taken aback by her own son's outburst.

"What?"

"You heard me, Mom," Sam said, standing his ground. "Ever since we moved when I was little, I've asked you about what happened to Dad and Charlie, and you never gave me a straight answer. All I wanted was to know why we moved away from them. Do you know how hard it was for me as a kid to listen to everyone else tell stories about their dads and brothers and sisters? I missed Charlie...and Dad! I mean, yeah, I had Kyle, who's been a great friend to me, but I still missed them, Mom! But you kept me in the dark until I grew up to forget about them! Why did you do that? Why did you always act like everything was fine when I knew by looking in your eyes that it was not?"

The room went silent. Sam was breathing as heavily as his mother was, a huge load lifted from his chest. Kyle was glancing back and forth between them, not sure how he felt about the outburst. The others remained silent, determined to stay out of the line of fire.

Hannah could only stare at her son. She wanted to be angry, to shout something at him or at Clay for starting this entire dilemma, but deep down a nerve was struck. Deep down, she always knew with increasing certainty that there would be a day coming in which Sam, after becoming an adult and moving out of her place, would either demand an answer from her or would even travel back home at some point to find out for himself what had happened. She always tried to push it away, but there was never any denying it. Sam was growing up, faster than she ever wanted, and with a heavy pang in her heart, she knew the day had indeed arrived.

"Sam," she said softly, tears forming in her eyes. "The reason why we left is because of what happened here all those years ago."

John tensed up. He knew what was coming, and he feared it, but he said nothing, daring not to interrupt.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

Hannah said nothing but shook her head as tears began to pour out. She put her head in her hands and pointed toward the corner of the room. Sam turned and noticed a small door hidden almost out of sight.

He began walking slowly toward it, half expecting and hoping someone to grab his arm and stop him, but no one did. They kept their silence and distance as they watched Sam move his way toward the door. To Sam, it felt like walking down a long hallway, with an unwanted surprise at the end. When he reached the door, he turned to look back, only to find everyone still watching him silently save for his already sobbing mother. He turned to the door and reached his hand out, touching the cold knob and giving it a cautious turn. He pushed the door open slowly with a creak.

When it finally opened fully, he peered inside the dark room but couldn't see anything.

"Does someone have a flashlight?" he asked. He heard footsteps approach; judging by the weight, it was Clay. He handed him his flashlight. Sam aimed it into the room.

His heart immediately sank. It was a closet. A larger closet than what he was used to, but a closet nevertheless. He _hated_ them, and yet he never knew why. Was it because they were small? Perhaps. Was it because they smelled back? Sometimes. No, it was something else.

He gazed around at the closet. It looked like a coat room almost, with metal bars where the hangars used to be. There was a stain on the floor that was shaped like a rhinoceros.

_"It looks like a rhinoceros."_

_ "It does not!"_

_ "It does too!"_

_ "Does not! It's a hippo, Sammy!"_

_ "No, Charlie, it's a rhinoceros!"_

Sam shuddered. Where did that come from? He didn't-?

And then it hit him. They did.

_The room was filled with coats, or were they costumes? No, they were costumes, soft and fuzzy costumes that they loved using to hide from each other. They were in the middle of playing a game, growing more tired by the minute, when the door opened and their mother looked down upon them wearing a dress and tiara. It was Halloween. Sam was about to ask her why she looked so pretty when Charlie answered him._

"_Mommy's a princess," she said in a sleepy voice._

_Hannah smiled and kissed her cheek. "Just for tonight," she whispered, and then she was gone. _

_Sam and Charlie looked at each other, both tired and thinking about calling quits on their game. As Charlie laid her head down, Sam turned and grabbed a small toy truck that he had hidden between two costumes. He began rolling it on the ground when the door opened again. They both looked up to see a rabbit standing in the doorway looking down at them. Sam smiled. It was the rabbit! Maybe he would dance for them! He turned to look at Charlie in excitement, only to see that she wasn't smiling. She looked concerned. He looked back at the rabbit, who continued standing there motionless, looking down at them. Sam was confused. Was he broken? Why wasn't he moving? Where was Daddy? He needed to come and fix him!_

_Then, the rabbit's head began moving back and forth between the two of them. Charlie's breathing intensified, but Sam continued staring up at the rabbit as it turned its head, unsure of who to look at. Finally, it locked on him and began reaching a large matted paw out toward him. Sam moved back a little bit, but the paw got closer. _

"_No!" cried Charlie suddenly. _

_The paw stopped, the head turned, and a second later, he pulled her to himself. She struggled for air and managed to look back at her brother on the ground. _

"_S-Sammy?" Her voice sounded panicked._

"_It's ok," he told her. "He only wants to say hi."_

_The rabbit looked back at him. It was then that he realized that the eyes were wrong. They weren't the usual big colored eyes he was used to, they looked...human. And right before the darkness set in again, he could've sworn he saw a twisted smile behind the animatronic teeth. Then the door closed and they were gone._

"_Wait!" he shouted, scrambling to get up and fumbling through the darkness for the doorknob. By the time he found it, he heard a scream on the other side. He twisted and pulled the doorknob with all his child might, but it was heavy. There were more cries of panic and confusion from the other side of the door. Sam kept pulling, but the door was too heavy for him to move._

"_Sam! Sammy!" It was his mother's voice. _

_Finally, he managed to pull the door just enough for it to crack. He slid his tiny finger into the crack and pulled it enough to crawl out. People were running everywhere, and all he saw were rapidly-moving feet. He began crawling through whatever openings in the panic he could find, desperately looking around for the rabbit and his little sister._

"_Sammy, darling. Where are you?"_

"_Mom!" he cried._

"_Sam, come to Mommy! Sam!"_

_And then he saw her. She rushed toward him, tiara gone and hair in a mess, and scooped him up into her arms, kissing him on the cheek._

"_Thank goodness you're safe!" she cried._

_And then Henry was there beside them._

"_Charlie!" he cried. "Where's Charlie?"_

"_The rabbit took him!" Sam told them. _

_They exchanged worried looks and Henry took off for the door, leaving his wife and son clinging to one another in the middle of the dining room floor._

A firm hand placed itself on his shoulder causing Sam to jerk once more back into reality. The closet was empty as it had been. He looked up to see Clay standing over him, looking concerned. The flashlight was back in his hand. Obviously, Sam had dropped it.

"He took her," he said.

"Who?" Clay asked.

Sam pushed himself up and walked back into the dining room where everyone else was still anxiously waiting. His mother had even temporarily ceased her crying and was looking at him, too, the same exact look she wore that night all those years ago as she held him in her arms.

He looked to John, who had a strange knowing look on his face. Sam had to know.

"Who?"

"Afton. William Afton," he said with a sigh.

Hannah whimpered and resumed her sobbing into her arms.

"But how would she-?" Sam asked, trying to piece together the events. "How did she-?"

And then, the realization hit him like a truck. According to Jessica, every one of William Afton's victims, at least back in the day, eventually ended up dead, and all buried presumably in Hurricane somewhere. Maybe his dad was there, too. What about Charlie? Was she...?

"Where's my dad buried?" he asked.

"The cemetery. In town," confirmed John.

"Where's the cemetery?" he asked.

"North side of town," said John, pulling his keys out of his pocket. "A couple of blocks away from the old high school and police station. But listen, there's-"

But before anyone could say anything, Sam ripped the keys from John's hands and sprinted out the door.

"Whoa. What-?"

"Sam! Come back!" Kyle shouted.

But Sam kept running. Time and distance didn't matter. The world suddenly didn't matter. He kept sprinting back down the road until he eventually reached John's car, parked where they left it. He unlocked it, got in, and started the engine. By the time the others caught up, he was gone.

"Where's he going?" Jessica cried.

"The cemetery," said Clay. "Come on, everyone. Let's go."

* * *

After what seemed like an hour, Sam finally entered Hurricane's city limits. He hoped there weren't any cops around, because he must have been going at least 100 mph the entire drive back. He felt guilty about taking John's car, but the fear was growing stronger by the minute. He needed to get to the cemetery, hoping that he wouldn't find what he feared he would. He reached the old high school, as Jessica had pointed out to him earlier, and continued driving north. He also thought about getting lost. That wouldn't help calm his nerves, either.

Finally, he saw it. The entrance was surrounded by a short fence with white posts and chains between them. Sam pulled into the parking lot and practically sprinted as soon as he got the door open and seatbelt unbuckled. As he ran inside, it occurred to him that there had to be hundreds of tombstones in this cemetery. How would he ever find what he was looking for, especially in the night?

He picked a row near the fence and started scanning tombstones. Fortunately, there was just enough light coming from the lamps above that he could read the names. He moved quickly from each grave, dismissing them as he went. Somewhere in his conscience, he scolded himself for not paying enough respect for those people, loved ones of someone else, who were buried feet below each stone, but he couldn't fight it. He kept moving through, growing more impatient and worried with each second.

Finally, he looked over and noticed a telephone pole, a small light connected to the side of it shining down on two single tombstones beneath, as if sheltering and displaying them. Within him, something sank, telling him: _These are the ones._ He walked over.

On the first tombstone was etched his father's name, Henry Emily, with his dates below, his death in 1985.

_Oh, Dad. What happened?_ he thought, sadness suddenly taking over. _What happened to you? Why did you do this?_

And then he turned his gaze to the tombstone beside it, and the world stopped. Without thinking, he fell to his knees and reached out to touch the stone face, trying to see if the words were real. The indentations confirmed.

BELOVED DAUGHTER

CHARLOTTE EMILY

1980-1983

Everything became silent. Sam heard nothing but his own pounding heart thundering against his eardrums. It couldn't be. This had to be a nightmare. He would wake up tomorrow and find himself back in his apartment in Chicago, and nothing would have changed. His sister and father would still be a mystery, better than this revelation. But it was futile. There was no denying that this was real.

The dam burst and Sam broke down, planting his face against the ground and weeping bitterly against the patchy grass. He didn't notice footsteps as the others approached him.

Jessica gasped and shook her head before turning and burying it in Carlton's shoulder. Carlton was aghast, not wanting to believe his eyes. Clay said nothing, taking in the sight before him and wondering how on earth he had never noticed this before, how none of them seemed to. Hannah stayed back, not wanting to come any closer to the site. Unlike the others, John had already experienced this heartbreaking revelation for himself, though the sight of Sam's emotions made his eyes water as well.

Kyle stepped forward, placing a hand tenderly on Sam's shoulder, completely helpless to say anything. What could he say? What would you say to someone who just found out a family member was dead? He had nothing on his own mind but questions, questions that he felt needed to be answered, but not right now.

They stood in silence, taking in the heartbreaking news while Sam's unrelenting sobs filled the night sky.


	9. Second Night in Hurricane

**A/N:** Once again, a big thanks for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy, and to all my U.S. readers, have a great Labor Day weekend!

* * *

"Maybe it's a mistake," Jessica insisted, though her own voice still said otherwise. "Maybe she got away, somehow. Made it back to her dad. Maybe it's all a mistake."

"Jessica, I told you what I saw," said John. "I'm telling you, it's no mistake."

"You don't know that!" Jessica shouted, slamming her glass of water on the table. "You said you were unconscious for part of it! You weren't there when it happened all those years ago!"

John said nothing. After they all eventually returned to the Burke residence, John had told them as best he could everything that he knew, from his and Charlie's first visit to Fredbear's all the way up to the day he left the hospital to visit the graveyard.

Jessica turned to Hannah. "Miss Anderson, is it true?" Her voice suddenly grew solemn and scared.

Hannah didn't hear the question. She was busy watching her son sitting silently at the kitchen table, staring down at it as if it had the answers he needed. When Jessica cleared her throat and repeated the question, Hannah turned to her.

"Yes. I'm afraid it is true. My husband…" She paused, her voice breaking and eyes watering again. Clay handed her a tissue, which she took, blowing her nose into it. "My husband...he believed there was a way to bring her back. He…" She paused again, clearly struggling to explain it. His knowledge of the animatronics far-surpassed hers. She was merely an artist. "He believed that it was possible to build something that could...replace her. _Imitate_ her. A robot that was so lifelike that it would be like she never left."

Carlton breathed a heavy sigh, mentally comparing the friend he thought he knew to that dreaded robotic face that terrorized him that day in Jessica's apartment. Jessica remained silent, tears forming in her eyes as her fight for denial was dashed. John only stared at the ceiling, his mind swimming in grief. Once again, he had already known much of what was being said, but hearing it from a new voice, a _knowing_ voice made such a big difference.

"I tried to tell him that he was making matters worse," Hannah continued. "I tried to tell him that as much as I desperately missed Charlie as well, she was gone and we couldn't replace her, but he insisted. Eventually, we began fighting. He grew..._angry_." She shivered and blew her nose again aggressively. "He told me that he knew he could do it, and that if I truly cared about Charlie, I would support him. And all the time, he barely said a word to Sam."

They all turned to look at Sam still sitting silently at the kitchen table. Unbeknownst to them, despite his isolation, he was listening clearly to every word spoken.

"Then what happened?" Jessica asked, turning back to Hannah.

She stared absentmindedly at her glass of water for a few moments before answering.

"We left."

"Just like that?" John asked, intrigued by the story.

Hannah nodded. "After a few months of trying to talk sense into that man I loved, it was obvious he was set to go down his dangerous path with no looking back. Sam was still too young to understand what had happened, but he knew that his father wasn't the same as he used to be. It was then that I knew...for both of our sakes, we needed to leave."

Though no one saw it, Sam's fists clenched.

"Did he ask you not to?" asked Jessica.

Hannah shook her head. "He was too engrossed in his work to take much notice. I sent him the divorce papers and got them back signed without a fuss. Honestly, I'm not sure he even recognized what it was before signing. I knew he was gone. There was no saving him, so I left him in the hands of his sister, Charlie and Sam's Aunt Jen. She was heartbroken but understood the circumstances as well as I did. She asked where we were going, but I told her I didn't know. My sister got us an apartment in Chicago, and when we got there, I decided it was best to forget the past and move on, never to look back at what happened. That's why I didn't want us to be found, even though we still were eventually." She shot a concerned look at Clay.

"Believe me, it took a lot of cross-referencing and background checking," he said. "I almost gave up, you know."

"Well, maybe you should have," she said, some of the earlier venom returning to her voice. "This is exactly why I never wanted either me or my son coming back here. There's nothing but pain here. We don't need that in our lives."

"Of course," said Clay apologetically, "but please understand that these people sitting here with us were still good friends with your daughter, even if…" He paused, still taking in John's revelation as best as he could. "...even if she wasn't what any of us thought she was. All we knew was that your daughter was missing and we had no leads. As a police chief and another good friend of Charlie, I felt it was my duty to put forth any effort that I could in order to find her."

"So, what does this mean?" Carlton interjected. "About Charlie? The investigation?"

Clay said nothing. They turned to John.

"You're sure you last saw her in the cemetery?" Carlton asked.

John nodded. "I almost didn't believe it at first. I was standing in front of the graves when I looked over and saw her. I didn't recognize her at first, but when I got closer, it was definitely her. The same face, the same eyes, the same hair even. But…"

He broke off, unsure of how to explain it. The silence was pressing down upon him, urging him to go on even though he didn't know how. All eyes were trained on him, intent on not looking away until he finished.

"She looked..._different_."

"Different how?" Clay asked.

John shrugged, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. "I can't explain it exactly. It was definitely her. I knew that for certain when I got close enough. But…"

He paused again, another silence filling the room. Still, no one dared to even move.

"To be honest..." John said, a smile wanting to creep onto his face even though he wasn't sure why. "...she looked _happy_. Happier than I'd ever seen her before in my life. And her face...it was glowing."

"Glowing?" said Jessica.

"Yeah. Not radioactive or anything like in the movies, but there was something about her that was just...well...radiating. It's like her happiness was so strong it was shining off of her, if that makes sense."

Jessica and Carlton shot confused glances at one another, as did Hannah and Clay. Kyle, most confused and oblivious of all, looked at Sam in the other room, but Sam hadn't budged an inch.

"And we walked back to my car...down by the road." John's voice was beginning to break, not necessarily in a sad way, but as if his frustration and confusion were getting the better of him. "And when we got there, she…"

He broke off, his eyebrows lowered as he struggled to remind himself of the events, unsure of whether or not it really even happened. He still desperately hoped someone would cut him off, tell him he was crazy and let the conversation resume among them while he went back to thinking it through by himself just like Charlie always liked to do. Yet the silence from the others urged him on.

"We looked at each other," he said, giving a big sigh. "Her face was so bright and happy. I never saw her so happy in my life, except maybe a few times when we were younger."

"What did she say?" Clay asked.

John shook his head. "She said, 'I'm real, John. I'm real!' And she…" Another pause, still trying to find the courage to say it. His eyes began to really water now. "She leaned in and kissed me, just like I always wanted."

Carlton raised an eyebrow. John noticed his reaction.

"It wasn't anything like that," he said, "but it was real. And it was, well..._love_."

"And then?" Jessica asked.

John hesitated. "I'm not sure. I gestured her to my car, hoping that we would go somewhere together. Just get away from this town and find our path in this world somewhere. We got in and I started driving toward the hospital, you know, so he could see you guys, but..." Another pause. "...she said that she needed to go home. So I took her back to her house. We got out and looked at the wreckage, and I looked at her, but she wasn't looking at the house. She was looking at me, and she was smiling again, but it was weird. She still looked so happy. It didn't make sense. And I..." Another pause. He really sounded like he was struggling now. "I started walking toward the house, but she stopped me and told me she didn't want to see inside anymore."

"And then?" Jessica asked.

"I took her back to my apartment so she could spend the night, and I let her sleep in my bed. She smiled and said, 'Thank you, John,' like she always did. And I slept on the couch. But...the next morning, she was gone."

"Gone?" Jessica said, shocked and clearly disappointed. "What do you mean 'gone'?"

John shrugged. "I mean she wasn't there anymore. It's like she was never there. The sheets didn't even look ruffled or anything, but I know she was there. I saw her clear as day."

John stopped speaking there. As silence fell once more, he felt conflicted. Part of him was interested in their reaction, hoping that they might shed some light on the subject in ways he hadn't thought. Another part still felt compelled to shut up, feeling that he had already said too much and that he had somehow betrayed Charlie with that close final moment being revealed so feebly on his part. Still, beneath all of that, he couldn't help but feel that, if nothing else, they all needed to understand why he left the way he did and what he was going through. Finally, Carlton broke the silence.

"That doesn't sound possible."

John turned to him. "Carlton, how many things have happened to us lately that didn't seem possible?"

Carlton opened his mouth, but closed it after a few moments and said nothing.

"I know it's weird," John insisted. "I'm still not sure whether or not I want to believe it myself. But I'm absolutely sure that's what happened."

"And then what happened?" Jessica asked, still hoping for a clear answer to her best friend's whereabouts from his story.

John groaned. "I went out looking for her. I checked the library, her house, I even went back to Fredbear's. She wasn't there. Finally, I went back to her Aunt Jen's house, where _they_ were."

"They? You mean-"

"Yes." John's implication was clear. He was referring to the two lifeless robotic bodies left at the house in Silver Reef. Though he hadn't planned on ever going back to that house, Charlie's sudden and brief appearance to him in that cemetery compelled him to return, to see for himself if it was true.

To his surprise, he'd found himself practically sprinting back into that house, hoping beyond anything that he would find it different somehow, that those nightmarish robots, one of which contained a face he'd grown to love, would be gone, and Charlie was out and about somewhere, too eager to see her other friends that she'd accidentally left him at the cemetery. To his grave disappointment, everything in the house was exactly the way he left it. All three figures were still there, completely motionless and with no spark of life in them whatsoever.

In utter disbelief, he slowly walked over to them, his lip quivering. When he got closer, he remembered that he hadn't had actually looked at them closely before. Now he stood directly in front of them, studying their every feature. The one was a face that had tormented all of them recently, the face of Charlie's duplicate. The face looked infuriated like it was severely angered by something right before it died (hopefully).

John couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. _You're not causing any more harm to anyone,_ he thought. He remembered the face clearly from the night she, or _it_, walked right by him as he left Clay's house, which resulted in Clay being hospitalized. He still thought back to its disguise, and it continued to baffle him how it was able to fool so many people, even him for a brief moment or two.

And then there was the other face, the newer one. He had only seen this one very briefly before realization emptied his stomach and drove him from the premises in despair. Now, taking a much closer look at it, he realized just how familiar it was. It had the face of Ella, only slightly older. Even now, he hoped that it wasn't true, that Charlie had somehow gotten free of her duplicate's clutches and found some random adult version of Ella laying around the house and faked her death. His brain tried hard to embrace that logic, but some other force would not allow him peace and satisfaction with that conclusion. Given everything that he knew and everything that had happened, deep down in the pit of his stomach, he knew the truth. While the face he was studying certainly had traces of Ella, it also showed unmistakably traces of Charlie, _his_ Charlie. From the cheeks to the eyes to the mouth and nose, there was absolutely no denying that this now-lifeless robot was once the girl he knew, the one he'd grown to love. And here she was with her duplicate, impaled together on the robot that had been built to end Henry's life, and now it had ended the lives of both of these robots.

As John continued staring at the fake, lifeless face of what was formerly his best friend, a sudden inexplicable feeling of rage overcame him. Although it was too late to do anything about it now, he couldn't help but feel betrayed. By Charlie's father, by her duplicate, even by life itself, but especially by William Afton. Why did it have to be this way? Why did he have to spend years thinking that Charlie was a real person when in reality she was nothing more than an attempted recreation of her former self by a man who lost his mind over her death? His fists clenched as his body began shaking violently. With every passing second, the robotic face taunted him more and more with the sad reality that Charlie really was no more. All those happy memories-the two of them playing together and laughing in school, the two of them embracing one another at her abandoned house and old diner, the two of them looking out for each other all throughout the dangers and obstacles-they all seemed to die with her.

Without a second thought, he forcefully ripped the duplicate's robotic corpse from the knife and threw it onto the floor. Then he grabbed what was left of Charlie's robotic remains and began carrying it down the hall, letting the suicide robot clatter onto the ground behind him.

He carried the robotic body down the hill and threw it into the passenger seat of his car. Without a glance back at the house, he took off down the road. He didn't know where he was going, but all he wanted to do was find a place to end his pain. He stopped at a gas station, the very same one from six months prior. The same boy was working behind the counter, but there were no pranks this time, no taxidermied animal carcass hidden anywhere. The boy scowled at John when he entered, but John didn't care. All he wanted was an empty gas can, some gas, and a lighter. The boy looked at him with a confused look on his face but sold him what he asked for. From there, John drove out to an open field (perhaps the same one were Tracy Horton had been found, for all he knew), dragged the lifeless robot out into the open field, and lit it ablaze.

"You what?" Jessica asked, unsure of whether or not she heard correctly.

John simply nodded. There were no other words. He had destroyed what remained of Charlie's remains. Granted, it was a bit of a crazy move, looking back, and he even had second thoughts after the rage had passed, but in the heat of the moment, all he wanted was the pain to be gone. And that empty shell that had formerly been the young woman he had loved was no longer anything more than a reminder of what he had lost, what they all had.

"Why?" Jessica asked.

Although it was honestly a reasonable question given the circumstances, John looked at her as if she had snakes coming out of her ears.

"Jessica, Charlie's gone! I may not be an expert on any of this robot stuff, but I can tell you without a doubt that there was no sign of Charlie left in that fake body! It was a useless heap of metal with no life in it whatsoever! Imagine you just found out for yourself that your best friend whom you've known for years wasn't even a real person all this time! Would you want to keep staring at what's left of her fake body?!"

Jessica stared into John's eyes long and hard for several moments. She wanted to retort, to give him an angry response of some kind, to tell him how foolish he was for killing Charlie in a sense, and how they could've maybe figured something out. But before she could say anything, his words had already begun to sink in. After all, the fake blood found at Freddy's didn't actually belong to William Afton, if he was to be believed. The only other explanation was that...it was _Charlie's_. She was still hesitant on fully admitting it, but if everything she'd found out tonight was true, perhaps it was better not to keep living in the past.

"So…" she finally uttered. "Was she, or _it_, really...dead?"

John nodded.

"And it was a robot? Just like the other one?"

Another nod.

"And they were both created by Charlie's dad? Because of her death?"

John sighed and nodded again.

"Why?"

Sam's weak voice from the other room startled everybody. They turned to him. He had gotten up from the table and was standing, his eyes looking weary but angry.

"Why what, Sam?" his mother asked, fearing his answer.

Sam took a few steps forward, his face giving off a venomous vibe.

"Why did he do it?"

They all looked at each other. No one said anything.

"What do you mean, Sam?" Kyle asked.

Sam turned to him, his eyes looking murderous, and for once, Kyle was intimidated by his best friend.

"Why did my dad do that?"

"Sam…" his mother started.

"Mom, why did he do that to us?"

Hannah sighed. "Sam, your sister…"

"Yeah, I know what happened to Charlie. We all do, now," Sam said, his voice growing more and more aggravated by the word. "I miss her, too, but why did he have to forget about us like that?! To just ignore us and act as if we never existed?! Was Charlie really _that_ special?!"

"Sam…" said Kyle, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, but Sam brushed it off violently.

"Don't start, Kyle. You don't understand. You never did!"

"You're not thinking clearly," said Kyle. "You're..._changing_."

"I'm fine. Just-"

"Sam, listen to me. You're being too emotional. I don't..."

"I'm fine!" Sam said again, his voice much louder.

"You don't sound fine," said Kyle.

Sam turned away, his breaths coming out in heavy puffs.

"Sam, look at me!" said Kyle. He grabbed Sam's shoulder and turned him toward him.

Before he could say anything else, Sam threw a punch and hit Kyle in the cheek.

"Sam!" his mother cried. John stood up, unsure of whether or not to interfere. Clay stepped between the two arms outstretched to keep them apart. Kyle put a hand to his face and looked at his friend, whose face remained unchanged. Kyle put up his hands in surrender, taking a step back, looking absolutely speechless. Sam turned to Clay, his eyes suddenly desperate.

"You're going to keep looking for her, right?"

Clay returned a rather confused look, unsure of who he was referring to at first.

"Who?"

"Charlie." Sam's tone was so solemn it was almost dead.

Clay looked back at the group, who all looked back at him in helplessness. He turned back to Sam.

"No."

Sam's eyes darkened. "Why not?"

"Because there's no point. Your sister is gone."

"You don't know that!" Sam shouted, a glimmer of hope evident in his voice. "John said he saw her in the cemetery!"

Clay groaned in frustration. "Sam, we can't be sure of that. Even John's as confused about it as we are. I know many strange and mind-blowing things have happened in this town lately, but I really do not see how Charlie could possibly still be alive after all of this. After all, the Charlie we knew wasn't even the real person! It's best that we accept the facts, Sam. It'll be better for all of us."

Sam looked around at the group, who all reluctantly but firmly showed their agreement. Sam grunted and looked back at Clay.

"She's alive. I know she is, and I'll find her myself if I have to."

Without another word, he stormed past Kyle up the stairs into his guest room, slamming the door behind him. Kyle began to follow, but Clay blocked him.

"Let him go. He needs time to cool off. He's had a pretty big bombshell dropped on him tonight. It's the emotions that are getting the better of him."

Hannah sniffled. She understood exactly how he was feeling, and it worried her. This was exactly why she didn't want either of them to come back. She had more than her fair share of thoughts like this of her own over the years, and with practice, she'd learned to keep them at bay with her work, but to see her son's fresh emotions brought back her own memories. They'd been abandoned. Although she'd tried for many months to explain it away somehow, there was no denying it. By burying himself in his work, completely obsessed with recreating his precious daughter, Henry had completely neglected and abandoned his wife and son, still alive and looking for his company. All that he cared about was resurrecting his deceased daughter. With that said, Hannah could only ask herself one question: "Did we actually matter to him at all?"

Jessica moved over and placed a hand on Hannah's to comfort her. John felt like doing the same, feeling a sense of obligation to help Charlie's mother. Clay looked over at Kyle, who had begun pacing back and forth while biting his thumbnail.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Kyle looked over at him. "Not really," he said quietly, his pacing never ceasing.

"Would you like some water?"

"I'm alright, thank you."

Kyle turned and looked back up the stairs after Sam.

"Kyle," said Hannah, "come sit down, please."

Kyle hesitated, still staring up the stairs, but slowly walked over and took a seat next to John.

"Are you alright, Kyle?" Carlton asked.

"No, I'm not," Kyle repeated. "I've never seen him like that before...ever. In all these years I've known him, he's always been very down-to-earth and clear-headed, at least as far as I know. Whenever I get going with one of my stupid stunts, and yeah, I know they're stupid, he's always the one bringing me back to reality. In fact, I even overheard my dad telling my mom one day that Sam was probably the one thing keeping me from being arrested, and you know, I don't blame him! To be completely honest, I've always felt so unworthy of Sam's friendship with all the headaches and stress pains I gave him, especially…" He looked at Hannah, who shook her head. "But anyway, to see him of all people lose it like that really bothers me. I've never felt so helpless in my life! I want to help him, somehow, but how can comfort him in light of all of _this_?"

Silence fell among them again. Kyle was both relieved that he had gotten that off his chest but still worried about Sam. No one said anything, as if the silence was so delicate that it would be shameful to break it. Finally, Jessica spoke.

"I still can't believe it," she said, now joining Hannah in teary despair. "All this time, and Charlie, our best friend, wasn't real. Well, she was real, but she wasn't...well..._real_. We've been best friends with a robot!"

"How is that even possible?" said Carlton.

"It's those metal discs," said John. "The ones Afton made. They mess with your brains."

"Yeah," added Jessica. "Charlie learned about it robotics class."

"When your brain is overwhelmed by information," John explained, remembering that Carlton had little firsthand experience with this phenomenon, "it fills in the gaps with other information. These discs were made to make something dead look alive and friendly. Apparently, Charlie's father put this to use. Remember when I brought Ella in?"

"That doll? Yeah, I remember."

"And you remember what happened?"

"Yeah, it transformed into a little girl."

"It _looked_ like it transformed, but it was all in your mind." John sighed. "That's what Charlie was, only older. In fact, given that robots don't age, at least not like we do, I'm willing to bet…" he said, turning to Hannah, "...that Ella was supposed to be Charlie as a little girl."

Hannah looked at him for a few moments and nodded slowly.

"So, you're saying that _Ella_ was _Charlie_?" Jessica asked in shock.

John nodded. After a month of his self-imposed isolation to try and sink his teeth into everything, he couldn't help but connect the dots. The real Charlie's death, the doppelganger's facade, Ella, the robots, it all started to add up. This was only confirmed further during his most recent trip back to that house earlier that day when he found and reread the letter Henry had given to Aunt Jen before he died.

Carlton scoffed, still in utter disbelief. "All this time, and we've been friends with a robot."

"But she was still our friend!" insisted Jessica. "And we're going to honor and remember her always, right?" She turned to John, who nodded solemnly.

"Of course."

"So where do we go from here, then?" Kyle asked.

"Well," said Clay, setting another glass of water down on the table, which Kyle decided to accept. "Like I told Sam, there's obviously no point in furthering the investigation if Charlie really is..._gone_." He choked a bit as he said it. He turned to Hannah. "I know you're probably anxious to leave. I do apologize for all of this. I had no idea about any of this. How soon would you like to leave?"

"Immediately," said Hannah without hesitation. John didn't argue, but Jessica's face dropped.

"Do you have to?" she whined, causing everyone to turn to her in surprise. "I mean, I miss Charlie as we all do, and I've enjoyed being able to get to know Sam. Must you leave so soon?"

Hannah sighed. "I'm afraid so. It's been lovely meeting all of you, it really has, but as I said before, this is exactly why we left in the first place. There's nothing left for us here but painful memories. You heard what Sam said about his father. I've felt the same way for years, which is why I never told him. It's best for everyone if we don't stick around."

Jessica looked like she was about to cry again, but nodded without saying a word.

"Might I interest you in a breakfast before you go?" asked Clay hopefully, who had also grown fond of having Charlie's family around recently.

Hannah thought about it and nodded. "Sure. Why not?"

Clay smiled and looked to the group. "Well then, we've had enough adventure for one night. Let's call it a night, what do you say?"

* * *

_Why would he do this?! Why would he just ignore us like that? Treat us like we're dead?! Was Charlie so special that I didn't matter to him? _

_I don't know what to think! I love Charlie, too, but the idea of being so worthless in Henry's eyes that he'd rather try and go bring her back to life is more than I can handle. I can't deal with this. I can't deal with any of this! Why did this have to happen to me? To us? Why did Charlie have to be murdered? Why did Henry have to neglect us like that? Why was Afton allowed to continue living if people were so sure he was guilty! This isn't fair! It just isn't fair! I don't know-_

* * *

Sam couldn't even continue. In more fury than he thought was possible, he threw his notebook down onto the table and collapsed onto his bed, his thoughts raging. Today had been much more of an emotional roller coaster than he ever imagined. And to top it all off, no one seemed to share his gut feeling that Charlie was still alive out there somewhere. Even John, who apparently saw her for himself, seemed baffled by the whole ordeal. Sam shook his head. He didn't want to leave. Not yet. It was bad enough that his own father essentially denied his existence after her death, but he wanted to at least find his sister. That was the only thread of hope for somewhat of a happy ending to this whole ordeal.

He tried thinking back once more to the memories of Fredbear's before everything went wrong. He tried desperately to remember anything he could about her smiling happy face, her young laughter filling the air as the two of them played and enjoyed the show the animatronics and sometimes their father would put on. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was that familiar yet not rabbit face looking down at him right before everything went dark. And Charlie, his dear twin sister, looking at him with fear in her eyes. She was frightened, desperate for someone she loved to help her. He should have helped her, yelled or fought the rabbit somehow, anything to stop her disappearance and murder form happening. But all he did was give her a smile and tell her that her soon-to-be murderer just wanted to say hi, or to hug her. And then she was gone. Tears came to Sam's eyes once more as he clenched his teeth and pounded his fist angrily into the bed.

_It's my fault,_ he thought. _It's all my fault. The last that she ever saw of her family was her brother, her protector, telling her everything was going to be alright. But no...it's not alright. She died, and it's all my fault. _

He thought of his father's reaction, his panic when he discovered that his daughter was missing, his eagerness to bring her back any way that he could.

And then the thought came.

_What if that's why Dad never paid any attention to me afterward? What if he knew it was my fault?_

_That's stupid_, another part of his brain said. _You know that that's stupid._

_How do you know?_ he argued back. _You weren't there. You weren't in my mind when I was a kid._

_You're being ridiculous. You know that._

_But she's still gone because I never did anything._

_You can't change what happened. Let it go._

_I can't. What if John's right? What if she's still out there somewhere, looking for me?_

_What if she's not? What if Clay's right and the best thing to do is to go home and move on?_

_I don't think I can._

He continued staring at the ceiling, painted plain white. It looked just like the ceiling in his apartment back home, only cleaner. Once again, he found himself wishing that he was back home and that this revelation was nothing more than a dream. But it wasn't. Even that thought gave him little comfort now. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he found himself drifting into sleep.

_He was standing in a closet, _the _closet. It was empty, and there were no noises beyond the door. No one was there. He looked around. It looked exactly as he remembered, but it was completely empty. The bars for hanging coats were empty and too high to reach. He looked down at himself and realized he was only about a foot tall. Was he really that small as a young child? _

_A noise brought his attention to the corner, where a small figure lay huddled in the corner. He crept over to it, careful not to startle it. When he got close enough, it looked up at him, and he realized that it was none other than his little sister, crying silently._

"_Sammy!" she said, getting up to hug him. _

_He reached out his arms, but the door flew open. Sam turned, and there he was. That rabbit, looking down at him with those cold human eyes and glinting smile behind the fake teeth. Somehow, Charlie was already in his grasp, struggling to break free._

_Sam opened his mouth to scream, but something else caught his eye. Behind the tall rabbit stood a dark shadow, standing slightly taller than the adult-sized rabbit. It had a black silhouetted hand curled over the rabbit's shoulder like it was proud of what was going on. It looked over at Sam, and on the previously-blank silhouette of the face appeared two bright white eyes and a smile even more sinister and crooked than that of the rabbit. It looked at him for a few moments, and Sam was too intimidated to move. And then, in a flash, they were gone, all of them. _

"_No!" Sam cried running out the door, only to find an empty restaurant, cold and dark. He ran to the window, hoping to see them running away so he could chase after them. But no one was there. Just the tree that always terrified Charlie._

_A noise came from behind him and he turned. Standing there in the center of the room was that same black figure, only this time it was alone, and it began moving toward him in a fast matter, a hand outstretched ready to grab him._

He awoke with a start. His forehead was drenched and his clothes were ruffled. He never undressed earlier. He looked over at the clock. A little after four in the morning. He groaned. Sleep just wasn't his friend tonight, not that he expected it really. His thoughts immediately returned to the dream he had just had, or was it a vision? He couldn't tell anymore. What was that monstrous creature in his dream? His memory still wasn't that great, especially now with all of his emotions still pulsing through him. He remembered learning in psychology how emotions sometimes disrupt the brain's thought process.

_Focus,_ he told himself. _Keep your head clear._

He couldn't remember anything like that in his memories, and he was certain that it was in his mind. Yet it seemed so real. Its haunting face looming over him from behind the rabbit, laughing, looking to kill.

What did it have to do with Charlie? He shook his head and leaned up on the bed.

_It doesn't matter,_ he thought. _It was a dream._

And yet it felt so real, so connected somehow. Where was Charlie? She couldn't be dead. Well, she was, but John's words were still echoing in his head. What she real? And what did she mean by that?

"_I'm real, John. I'm real!"_

What did it mean? He didn't know, but he needed to find out. With an audible huff, his decision was made.

_I have to find her._


	10. The Decision

**A/N:** Once again, thanks very much for the patience. As I've said before, I always want to make sure I'm writing good content (I don't want to ever throw something sloppy together just for the sake uploading something), but I'm also very much a perfectionist which can often lead to some bad writer's block at times. I hope it's worth the wait.

Also, for those who are interested, I added a little more to John's story in the previous chapter. Happy reading!

* * *

Grabbing his notebook and throwing on a fresh pair of clothes, Sam quietly opened his bedroom door. The hallway was dark, and the atmosphere was completely silent. He crept down the stairs, trying his best to avoid creaking. Every few steps made an audible noise, but nothing too loud. Still, he couldn't help but freeze, wincing with teeth clenched every time it happened. All it took was one person catching him to risk losing his chance. After about five minutes, he managed to make his way to the bottom of the stairs.

He still couldn't believe he was doing this. Part of him felt like he was betraying everyone, old and new friends in his life, by sneaking away. It was like he leaving a circle of trust, venturing off into uncharted territory in a lifeboat barely sturdy enough to carry his weight. Yet here he was, making the leap of faith anyway.

But then again, he figured, trust wasn't really an issue right now. After all, everyone else was willing to give up, to simply accept the fact that Charlie was gone without any second thoughts whatsoever about John's testimony concerning her supposed appearance at the cemetery.

_Seriously, why is no one questioning that?_ he thought bitterly as he crept through the dark house. _Do they honestly believe that I'm just going to leave quietly and go back home pretending nothing ever happened after this? No, I'm not ready. I have to keep looking. For what? I don't know, but there's gotta be something more to this that I'm missing, that we're _all_ missing. _

No, he was determined to find out more about what was going on, even if it meant taking matters into his own hands. He simply wasn't ready to go home and try to pretend that everything was normal. He simply couldn't live with himself knowing that his twin sister may actually be alive somehow, possibly even still looking for him.

A soft rumble echoed in the distance, and it was then that he noticed the soft patter of rain against the windows. He groaned. _Great._ As he passed by the front window, he noticed Jessica's car parked outside.

_Is she still here?_ he thought. _I guess she decided to spend the night._

For a moment, he considered borrowing hers or John's car, but he immediately cut that thought off.

_I'm just looking for my sister. I'm not trying to steal a car._

But that was something else that suddenly hit him. How was he going to travel? It was a small town, sure, but he wanted to go outside of town. That's where everything began. He couldn't walk the entire way, he needed transportation.

He sighed. What was happening to him? Throughout the years, Kyle was always the impulsive one, saying or doing whatever came to mind. If a random thought suddenly crossed his thinking, those around him would hear about it whether or not they wanted to. Sam, on the other hand, was much more level-headed and reserved, opting to carefully consider what he said and did and unfortunately causing him to be very timid at times. He often blushed in embarrassment at some of Kyle's antics and absolutely hated the thought of jumping without a parachute, so-to-speak. Yet here he was, yearning with overwhelming desperation for a last-ditch attempt to find his lost and possibly dead sister, so full of confidence to do what he hoped was right while not even taking the time to think through a plan of action, including how he would travel.

_What about the garage?_ There's a thought. With everything that had been happening, he hadn't ever thought about the garage. With how rich the Burkes were, maybe there was a spare car there that he could borrow.

Still being careful not to make any audible noise, Sam slowly crept through the kitchen to the door that presumably led to the garage if his understanding of the house was right.

_I think it's here. The garage door is right next to the kitchen window._

It was a wooden door, painted an elegant green with a brass knob. He touched it, the cold almost bitter against his palm, and turned the handle slowly. When it would turn no longer, he pushed it open with a soft creaking.

He wasn't sure what to expect, but he wasn't surprised by what he saw when he flipped the light switch next to him. The room was fairly large, bigger than the average garage yet about what one would expect from a wealthy family. There were shelves piled with tools and even books and a workbench big enough to fit three guitars on it in the corner, or so he figured. The garage had the familiar smell of dust in the air, as was expected of any garage. There were a few things scattered on the ground here and there, but overall the large room was relatively clean.

In the center of the garage were a few cars. The closest one, he recognized, was Clay's car. This was obvious by the police markings on it. The one next to it was Carlton's car. It almost looked cleaner in here than it did outside, probably because of the light reflecting off of it making it shine. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen it in the daylight, or at least never noticed it. Clearly they had parked inside to make room in their driveway for the others. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous of their cars, no doubt new and expensive while he was stuck with an eleven-year-old car with its quirks and malfunctions back at home. It was a rash thought, he knew, and it had no basis outside of his lingering anger from earlier wanting to voice another protest of life. He shook his head violently, trying his best to rid himself of the anger within him.

_What's happening to me?! Seriously, pull yourself together, Sam!_

As he walked over to the cars to get a closer look at them, he noticed another car behind Carlton's. It was a Honda, blue and quite old, judging by the dents and scratches on it. Sam approached and examined it. Clay hadn't mentioned anything about owning a third car. Granted, it never really was a topic of discussion. Perhaps it was his wife's? Sam suddenly realized that Clay's wife, Carlton's mother, wasn't around. Now, where was she? He hadn't even heard her name spoken at all, let alone seen her. Was this car hers?

He peered through the window. The car was a mess. From what he could see, the car floor wasn't even visible. It was cluttered with cassette tapes, papers, and even the occasional bolt or screw. The seats were a bit torn, particularly the driver's seat. It looked like whoever was driving the car either seriously neglected to care for them or was subject to outbursts of anger, or perhaps they had driven a mentally-unstable person somewhere. The backseat wasn't much different, although it was slightly more organized.

Sam pondered for a moment and shrugged. _It'll do._

He gave the door handle a try. It didn't budge.

_Of course. Now, where are the keys?_

His first thought was somewhere in the garage. At his job back home, car keys were stored on a wall near his manager's office. Perhaps they were kept somewhere in the garage. He looked around, walking from the large workbench in the corner to the desk near the door, even checking the bookshelves. They weren't there.

_Wait, why would they be here? This isn't work! They're probably in the house!_

Mentally facepalming himself again, he walked back into the house, nearly forgetting about the creak of the threshold as he carefully stepped over it.

_Where would Clay keep his spare keys?_

He checked the key rack near the front door where the other keys were. He saw Clay's and what was presumed to be Carlton's as well as a few other single keys, but none of them looked like car keys. They were probably for things around the house. He walked into the living room and made his way to the table near the window, pulling open the drawers there. Nothing inside but a few papers that looked irrelevant.

He paused when he thought he heard movement from upstairs. If anyone caught him, so much as saw him right now, dressed and ready to go out somewhere, he would be busted. His mother would be woken up and he would be given yet another stern lecture about how this town is no good and Charlie's really gone, that he would be doing nothing but wasting his time. He didn't want to hear that. Not now.

After whatever noise that he thought he heard died down and silence fell once more, he continued his search. The drawers on the TV stand yielded nothing, nor did the desk in the corner. He turned his attention to another door he hadn't tried yet. He opened it slowly. It led to the basement.

_Yeah, this isn't creepy at all,_ he thought as he flipped the light switch and slowly descended the stairs. He noticed immediately that they were a bit hard to climb down, being much steeper and narrower than stairs he was used to. He also came close to stepping into a large hole where a step clearly should've been.

The basement was surprisingly bare compared to the rest of the house. The walls weren't even complete walls, but rather just the interior supports. Sam couldn't help but feel a little surprised. Apparently the basement was never really a top priority. The washer and dryer were looking a bit old and rustic. He wondered if Clay were to consider buying new ones at some point. Maybe when this was all over.

Something else that immediately stood out to Sam was how disorganized it was down here. There were papers everywhere, both on tables and on the floor. Sam slowly moved over to one of the desks, careful not to step on anything in case it was important. On the desk, he noticed that many of the papers were actually newspaper clippings from over ten years ago. Sam couldn't help but be curious.

One that stuck out to him immediately was one with a huge picture of Freddy Fazbear's back in its heyday, only it was covered with police tape. Obviously this was after the kidnappings Clay and the others talked about. The headline read: ANOTHER CHILD DISAPPEARS-FREDDY FAZBEAR'S TO CLOSE. Sam grabbed it and began reading it.

"_On June 23, 1987, a fifth child was reportedly abducted on the premises of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The child's name in question is Michael Brooks. Some witnesses have reported hearing screams coming from children while others have noticed a foul stench of blood on the floor leading to one of the back rooms. Police are investigating the incident…"_

Sam put the paper down. _Michael Brooks. That was Carlton's close friend, wasn't it?_ He closed his eyes and began picturing the event. He only saw the skeletal remnants of Freddy's, but he could still it clearly in his mind.

A bright room, decorated with banners and posters, party hats, play areas, and the inviting scent of pizza always in the air. On stage, the animatronics would sing their tunes happily while children laughed and danced. And then, a scream would echo through the room and turn many heads, mostly adults. Someone would point somewhere, and people would notice blood on the ground leading to one of the back rooms. Parents would suddenly scramble to find their children, children would run to find their parents, and some would perhaps think to check the door before deciding against it. In the crowd, he thought he saw his mother.

"_Sammy, darling. Where are you? Come to Mommy!"_

_No, that's not what happened. That's my memory from-_

He shook his head violently and opened his eyes. He didn't want to think about that anymore. He shuffled through the papers and found another one. This headline read: FREDDY'S OWNER QUESTIONED ABOUT DISAPPEARANCES. Now this one he had to read.

"_Henry Emily, owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, has been questioned concerning his knowledge of the child disappearances which have occurred over the last few months in his restaurant. He claims to have been unaware of any such events until after-the-fact, stating that he's always been too busy maintaining the restaurant to notice. Some within the department have expressed their doubts. 'His responses are slow,' says Det. Stan Martin, 39. 'It sometimes takes him five minutes to answer a simple question. We're not having that much luck at all with him.' Police are still investigating."_

Sam shook his head. So Henry had somehow neglected to notice that more kids were disappearing right under his nose? The same way he neglected to notice that his own son and wife were standing right next to him, wanting his company, only to be ignored and rejected? That sounds about right. Sam actually felt more for the children and their parents than the man he called father.

He briefly looked through some of the other papers, which were mostly police reports and some of Clay's detective notes. From the looks of it, neither Clay nor the rest of the department had any luck whatsoever in discovering what had happened.

_Until recently_, Sam thought, remembering the stories he'd been told since he arrived.

All of this, yet no extra car keys anywhere. He performed a quick search through every drawer and on every table he could find. Nothing. He groaned and walked bitterly back up the steps, almost stumbling right into the hole where the missing step was.

He walked back into the kitchen, still lost in thought.

_Why would you have an extra car parked in your garage and not have the keys around? That doesn't make sense!_

To be fair, he hadn't really checked the kitchen yet. Maybe they were in here somewhere, out of sight. He began checking the drawers beneath the counter. It didn't really make sense, but he was running out of options. The only other place they could be was Clay's bedroom. He hoped that wasn't the case. Being a police chief with his experiences, Clay was more-than-likely a light sleeper. He didn't want to have to take that chance.

But then, his luck changed. In the final drawer next to the refrigerator, almost hidden beneath some towels...

There they were! The car keys to a Honda. He wondered why they would be kept here of all places in the kitchen. It was as if Clay didn't want _anybody_ taking this car. With that thought, he felt another pang of guilt surge through him, the sense of betrayal pricking his conscience.

_It's for Charlie_, he insisted. _If I can find her, all will be well and forgiven. They'll see._

He turned to make his way back to the garage and almost screamed in terror. Standing only a few feet away, with wide eyes almost completely obscured by darkness, was Kyle.

"Kyle! Hey, man!" he uttered in panic, trying his best to keep the keys obscured behind his back. "Sorry if I woke you. I just felt like going out and getting some fresh air. It's getting pretty hot up in my room, so..."

Kyle said nothing but continued staring blankly at him.

"And listen, sorry about yelling at you earlier...and also the...you know..." Sam continued nervously, gesturing to his face. "I was angry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to do that." In the pit of his stomach, he felt awful, though not just for earlier, but also because he knew that deep down that anger was still bubbling. He desperately hoped that his friend would say not to worry about it, brush it off like he usually did whenever one of them had a bad day and needed to vent, maybe even crack a joke about it to lighten the mood.

Yet Kyle said nothing. His blue eyes continued boring into Sam's brown ones. Sam took a step back, a little unnerved.

"Seriously, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just been a tough night," Sam insisted, hoping that Kyle would affirm or even acknowledge what he said. "Plus it's hot. It gets stuffy in here, ya know?"

Kyle still said nothing as his dead stare continued.

"Listen..." Sam said, still rambling to try and cover up his intentions and make some form of actual conversation. "This sounds kind of crazy, but have you ever believed in resurrections? I know we never really believed in the afterlife much, but do you think that there's actually still being alive somehow after they die?"

It was a fair question. As skeptical as they had been before (though they did their best to hide their skepticism out of respect for the others), things had changed since they arrived. Kyle was always very skeptical, but Sam was always more open to the concept that maybe, just maybe, there was another world beyond the physical world, a life beyond life on earth. And now, with all of the strong emotions and stories from various people concerning this very topic, his interest was peaked more than ever, especially since his sister may indeed still be alive, looking for him. He waited patiently for Kyle to give a response.

But there was still no such response. Silence. Staring.

_What's wrong with him?_ Sam thought. _I didn't even say anything that offensive to him earlier. Why's he acting so weird all of a sudden? The only other time I've seen him like this is when…_

And then it hit him. Kyle was sleepwalking again. In all the emotions and trauma of the past day, Sam had completely forgotten about his friend's nighttime tendencies. Still, given the circumstances, this was different. Although Sam knew that Kyle's mind was only taking in little, if any, of what was actually happening, it still felt as though he was actually studying Sam, looking deep into his soul ready to pull out something he was looking for. While his dead stare was always unnerving, now it felt a hundred times worse. Sam felt completely exposed in Kyle's gaze, wondering if any of what was happening was registering to his brain.

Finally, Kyle glanced down at the keys still clutched in Sam's hand, though no longer hidden that well, then back at his friend. He gave a small grunt and turned around, walking into the living room and out of sight.

Sam sighed. _That was close. The last thing I need is for someone to talk me out of this. I have to find her. I just can't leave. Not yet. This is for Charlie,_ he reminded himself.

He turned and walked back into the garage. The Honda opened with relative ease and he breathed a sigh of relief. He hit the switch on the wall to open the garage door only to be greeted by a rather loud, screeching noise as it opened slowly. He winced, completely expecting someone to come running. Should he hide just in case?

_No, that might make more noise._

He stood still, completely silent, worried that a single drop of sweat would break the silence. He listened, expecting to hear footsteps rushing down toward him, the appearance of Clay's face in the doorway asking what he was doing. But no one came. After two minutes of complete silence passed, Sam finally gave another sigh of relief.

_Does he have this place soundproofed or something?_

He walked back over to the car and opened the door. He was hit immediately with the scent of damp and musty air. Clearly this car hadn't been used in a while. He threw his bag in the passenger seat and sat down, shutting the door behind him.

The car was definitely old, even older than his back home. The knobs were ancient, the steering wheel showed clear signs of wear-and-tear, and some of the symbols on the dashboard were almost ancient. He stuck his key into the ignition and started the engine, hoping it started. After a few attempts, the engine turned over and roared to life surprisingly well for an oldie. On top of that, there was about a half of a tank of gas. He smiled. It was time.

He gently backed out of the garage, trying his best to avoid hitting anything on the ground. He looked back and noticed that John's car was blocking him. He slammed his hand on the wheel. Another obstacle. In fact, the entire driveway was blocked. Was this really going to be that hard? He checked the side of the driveway and saw just enough space between John's car and the trees on the edge of the property.

_Sorry, Clay,_ Sam thought as he slowly backed his way through the narrow gap, barely missing John's side mirror and no doubt making a mud trail on the ground.

As he backed out onto the road, he couldn't help but give a quick glance back at the house, still worried he had awoken someone. Thankfully, all was still, although, for a brief moment, he thought he could make out a face peering at him through the front window, eyes locked on him through the rain. He quickly put his foot on the gas and sped away.

* * *

"Sam?" Kyle knocked gently at the bedroom door. He was still concerned about Sam after last night's outburst. He hoped that a good night's sleep (if it were possible) would calm his anger enough for a pleasant goodbye to the group. Sure, it would certainly take a while to come to terms with the revelations here, but perhaps moving on and getting back into the swing of things at home was best.

However, there was no answer. Kyle waited for a few moments. Perhaps Sam thought it was another joke, another bout of sarcasm. After all, as the most unfamiliar and inexperienced newcomer to the town and its ugly history, Kyle was bound to be the least affected by the hard truths, unless one counted witnessing the disturbing breakdown of his best friend.

"Mmm, morning Kyle," came a tired female voice from behind. It was Jessica, dressed in dark purple pajamas and her hair was a half mess looking like she tried combing it as best as she could before stumbling out of her room. "How's Sam?"

"I don't know. He's not answering," said Kyle, turning back to the door. He knocked again. "Sam? Come on, man. It's time to get up. We'll be leaving pretty soon."

There was still no answer. Kyle turned to Jessica, who only returned his concerned look. Kyle turned the door handle. It was unlocked. He slowly pushed the door open.

"Sam? You okay?"

The room was empty. The bed looked like it had been slept in, but Sam was nowhere to be found.

"Sam?" Kyle entered the room, Jessica following behind him, looking concerned. "Where are you?"

"What's going on?" John entered the room behind them.

"Sam's not here," Jessica told him.

"What?" John's face became even more worried than Jessica's. "What do you mean?"

"He's not here," said Kyle, looking around for anything of interest.

"Where could he have gone?" Jessica asked.

"I don't know, but he must have gone somewhere, 'cause his journal's gone. He never leaves without that," Kyle insisted.

"You don't think-?" John asked.

Kyle opened his mouth when, timed perfectly with a sudden flash of lightning outside, a thought struck his mind. He had a dream last night. He remembered talking with Sam about something, except he wasn't talking, Sam was. He listened as Sam, who seemed flustered, asked him about resurrections. It was weird, seeing as Sam never seemed interested in that stuff before. What was crazy is that they were here in Clay's house, too. Was this town getting to them? Were whatever forces beyond their understanding affecting them the same way it was affecting the others? It still seemed ludicrous, but he found himself increasingly unable to think of logical explanations for everything.

Then he remembered something else. He briefly saw a set of keys in Sam's hand. They were almost hidden like he was trying to hide them, but they were still visible. And then, for a split second, he recalled watching a car drive away in a hurry. And then nothing else.

Without a word, Kyle brushed past Jessica and John and practically sprinted down the stairs, skipping a few steps here and there and almost falling forward in the process. He entered the kitchen, where Clay was standing near the counter with a cup of coffee. Sam's mother, who looked weary from a presumably sleepless night, sat at the table with a cup of her own. They both turned to him when he entered.

"Good morning, Kyle," said Clay, smiling lightly. "How are we this morning?"

"Clay," said Kyle, "do you keep an extra set of car keys in one of your drawers?"

Clay's smile immediately faltered. His skin almost looked pale, even in the low light from the dark weather outside. "Why?" he asked in a low voice. That said it all.

Kyle turned to where this supposed event took place. He walked over to the drawer and pulled it open. In it lay nothing but a few towels and cloths. He turned back.

"Empty," he announced.

Clay's face sunk even further as he moved quickly to the door nearby and immediately disappeared from sight. A few seconds later, the sound of an angry shout echoed from within.

Hannah gasped, almost spilling her coffee. John and Jessica had caught up and were observing the commotion from the doorway. Kyle sighed.

_Looks like it wasn't a dream after all._

* * *

Sam activated the windshield wipers as he tried maneuvering his way down the road. The rain was really coming down now. Despite the dry weather, it almost looked like a monsoon was happening. Even with the windshield wipers going, he could hardly see a few feet in front of him.

A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. He shifted in his seat. He always loved storms back home, but now he felt unnerved. After all, he was striking out on his own, charting unmarked territory. He remembered when he and Kyle would take boat rides on Lake Michigan on one of his parents' boats. While thankfully nothing ever happened, they had a few close calls when a thunderstorm came rushing in and they were over three hundred yards out into the water. He couldn't help but feel very similar right now like he was sailing into a severe storm in nothing more than a sailboat.

He shuddered and started flipping the knobs. Perhaps some music would calm his nerves. He noticed there was a tape in the player. He activated it. Immediately, the car was filled with an eerie screeching noise, very high-pitched and neausiating. Sam almost drove into a light pole but managed to save himself in time. With one hand covering one of his ears, he frantically reached around to stop the tape, finally hitting the button after a few moments.

_What was that?_

He slowed down and pulled over at a blinking light. He ejected the tape and investigated it. It looked normal, but there were no labels on it, with the exception of the words _Afton Robotics LLC _in the corner. Sam stared down at it, confounded.

_What, was Afton making tapes, too?_ he thought grimy with a small chuckle. _I'd like to see him performing that onstage._

He began looking around for another tape, something actually pleasant to listen to, but he didn't see anything. It was mostly the metal pieces scattered about the floor that he'd seen earlier.

He shrugged and pulled the car back out onto the road. He continued driving back in the direction of Henry's house. He figured he had to start somewhere, and the location of his sister's old house and Afton's underground pizzeria seemed like the perfect place. If only he remembered how to get there. He had entered the same wooded area that he and Jessica had gone before, but with the dark and pouring rain, he had no bearings. Nothing looked familiar in these conditions. He saw no other houses, and at times couldn't even make out the trees along the side of the road. He gave another groan of displeasure. His prided memory was of no use to him now.

Suddenly a flash of bright light shone and a loud crack echoed. A second later, a large tree branch landed right in front of him on the road. Sam swerved the car frantically to the right and the car began spinning rapidly. He threw the wheel in the other direction in an attempt to stabilize the glide, but it would not obey his command.

And then, everything went black.


	11. The Search

"_What do you mean he's gone?!"_ Hannah shrieked as Kyle finished relaying the story to them.

"I told you. I saw him take the keys out of that drawer and drive off in the car," said Kyle.

_"Why didn't you stop him?!" _Hannah shouted, fists shaking in rage.

"I was sleepwalking, Miss Anderson! I'm not really in a position to think about things like that."

"Wait, whose car are we talking about?" John asked. Unlike the others, he hadn't been back to Burke's house since the incident with Clay and the robotic imposter.

"Charlie's car," said Clay. "When we took care of her Aunt Jen's body, I noticed her car was parked down near the road. So I brought it back to keep it safe...just in case she…"

He trailed off, but his message was clear. _In case she was found._

"That's where Charlie's car went? It's been here the whole time?" Jessica asked, and Clay nodded.

"Yep, and apparently Sam's making an attempt of his own to find his sister."

"So what do we do?" Carlton asked.

"I'm not leaving without my son," said Hannah. "He's literally the only family I have left now."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We have to find him," said John. "But how? He could be anywhere."

Clay pondered for a moment, then turned to Kyle.

"I think we may need your piloting skills after all."

* * *

Pain. That was the one thing that he felt as his eyelids fluttered open. The light blinded him for a few moments, but his movement was very limited. His left arm was in severe pain and any attempt he made to move it protested his decision instantly. His other arm and legs seemed to feel okay, though his overall stamina was in slumber and his head felt like a swollen balloon on his shoulders. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he opened them fully.

Aside from a thick strand of light pouring through a crack of foliage, all he could make out through the spider-webbed windshield were branches and leaves.

_Where am I? What happened?_

As his vision began to come further into focus, he saw the steering wheel in front of his body, part of the side torn off. He glanced around at the interior of the car he was in, taking in the smell, and then he remembered: he was in the car he'd borrowed from Clay's house and had spun out after trying to avoid a tree.

He began examining himself. His left arm was trapped between the side of the seat and the car door that had been pushed inward by the impact. That was why it was in so much pain. With as much strength as he could muster, he pushed the door outward with his good arm, struggling against the weight opposing him, until he eventually was able to squeeze his trapped arm out from its snare, cutting himself in the process and extending the bloody wounds he'd already sustained. After maneuvering his legs out from beneath the steering wheel, he managed to crawl over the console and into the damp air through the intact passenger door. Getting to his feet, he looked back at the damage.

The car was absolutely wrecked. It wasn't quite as bad as some of the accidents he'd seen back home, but it was still useless nevertheless. He had spun into a tree. Most of the damage was in the front, crumpling the side of the hood and engine, though part of the damage extended back to the driver-side door, pushing it inward. All of the windows on that side of the car were broken, the tires were either bent or off their axles entirely, and the trunk's hood also took enough damage to render it useless as well.

Sam sighed. His only form of transportation was dead, and his body wasn't really in any desired shape to walk great distances, nor was his mind for that matter. Perhaps there was something in the car that could be of use. He checked the glove compartment. Nothing but a few papers in there which looked absolutely useless to him. And then he began checking the car floor through the wreckage of random metal parts lying about.

_Seriously, what is all this? Who would have this metal stuff just lying around in their car? Was this person working on some kind of machinery?_

However, upon further inspection, he also noticed a sliver of blue underneath the passenger seat. He reached over an pulled out a notebook.

It was a school notebook. Curiously, he opened it. The first page contained a handful of notes. On the top was written the heading "Intro to Robotics." Below that, technical terms and notes: the laws of robotics, robota, the basics of artificial intelligence.

Sam flipped the page. Now there were diagrams that had been drawn, some taking up half of the page, with charts and graphs giving information that he wasn't familiar with. While he'd always admired Henry's handiwork as a young child, he never was into robotics. It was interesting that he happened to find a notebook on the floor of the car he borrowed and unintentionally destroyed.

_Wait, didn't Jessica mention something about Charlie taking a robotics course at St. George's?_

He flipped back to the first page, and sure enough, in the top left corner of the inside cover written in black marker was the name: Charlie.

And then it hit him.

_This is Charlie's car._

A sudden wave of guilt struck him. What had he done to his sister's car? It was an absolute wreck with no signs of life whatsoever. He couldn't help but imagine her face when he told her that he had destroyed her vehicle, if he found her, that is. Would she care? Would her joy at seeing him again overshadow any other emotions she may have? He hoped so, but then again he couldn't know for sure. Once again, their lack of a relationship growing up apart all these years left those questions in the air.

Knowing the car and notebook's true ownership, he skimmed through the rest of the notebook, interested in seeing what was on his sister's mind as of late. It started off relatively normally, but as he flipped further into the brief amount of used pages, he began to see more space taken up by boxes. Square and rectangles had been sketched everywhere onto the pages, both on the lines and even in the margins. On the final few pages, he even saw doodles of animals. He couldn't quite make them out, but one of them looked very much like a wolf, a twisted wolf with distorted features.

Sam frowned. _What is this all about? What happened, Charlie?_

He thought back to the stories and remembered them mentioning something about twisted animatronics, creatures created by Afton that used whatever that illusion device was to appear normal when they wanted. He shuddered. Was this them in Charlie's drawings? If so, he hoped they were gone and he wouldn't run into them.

But that was assuming he ever had a reason to find them. He had no idea where exactly he was. He assumed it was somewhere on the way to his sister's house, but he couldn't be sure. One thing was for sure: Charlie's car wasn't going anywhere. His only hope was to flag someone down traveling down the road. Surely everyone else knew he was gone and were actively searching for him now. Part of him felt relieved, sure they would find him eventually, but another part of him still yearned to go on. After all, he'd already come this far. Might as well commit.

He moved over to the road, his arm still screaming in pain every time he unconsciously swung it with a step. He saw the tread marks on the road where he had spun out, turning a full 180 degrees from the direction he was going before slamming into the tree. The tree branch was there, its leaves wet and green, though not for long. In the light, it was even bigger than what it looked like at the moment it fell in front of him, and even then it looked huge. Sam sighed. It appeared that no one would be getting through here. He walked over and sat down on the branch, pondering his next move.

He thought back to last night when he listened to his mother talk about what had happened right after Charlie's death. So Henry had decided to try and recreate his sister? To make it seem as though she was still here? Sam sighed. He couldn't fault that desire. He, too, would have wished desperately that his sister was still alive, had he known at the time what had happened. But then Henry began losing himself to his work. Sam had no recollection of any of this, thankfully, but it sounded like he and his mother became so unimportant to Henry that he would rather have back his dead daughter than go so much as given his son and wife the time of day. Sam loved Charlie, but what made being Daddy's girl so special?

Maybe his mother was right to keep him from the truth for as long as she did. Maybe it really was for the best. With each passing minute, his regret grew. They say ignorance is bliss, and right now he wished that he could've stayed home and never known. At least he wouldn't have to go through this emotional distress. He and Kyle could be playing a gig somewhere or having fun following one of Kyle's stupid ideas. But no, he was here instead, trapped in the twisted world that was his past, with nothing to take away the pain he felt knowing that he'd been carelessly thrown away by the man he had called father. He felt rage approaching again as his fists clenched.

_No_, he told himself. _Calm down. Don't do this now. Focus. You came out here for a reason._

With everything that had just happened, from wrecking the car to having another internal argument, he'd almost forgotten that he'd come out here to find Charlie. He didn't know where he would even begin now. He had no transportation anymore. It would probably only be a matter of time before someone came looking for him and found him and the car. Should he accept defeat now that he had ruined Charlie's car? Or should he keep going? He had no idea where he was. He hoped he was driving back to the remains of his sister's house, but with the weather, he may not even be on the right road going in the right direction. Part of him now regretted his decision to come out here in the first place. He could be completely lost with no way to signal his position. He suddenly wished he had one of Kyle's flare guns. That would be handy right about now. But instead, he was growing hotter with each passing minute. It was turning into a warm day after all.

With a sigh, he got up off the tree branch and walked back to the car. The dented trunk was hanging open, as useless as the rest of the car now, thanks to him. He opened it and peered inside.

The trunk was a mess. It looked like whatever was in here was once organized and neat, but thanks to his episode with the tree, everything was now scattered all over the trunk floor. There was a thick cotton blanket, batters, water bottles, granola bars, and thankfully a large police flashlight.

_Thank you,_ Sam thought, grabbing the flashlight as well as a few granola bars. _I wonder who's idea it was to have all this in here?_

He unwrapped a bar and took a big bite. It was thick and chewy. He wondered whether t was supposed to be that way or if age had gotten to it. The last thing he needed right now was a stomachache. He took another bite.

"Sammy!"

He froze. _What was that?_ He looked around, hoping and dreading to see someone standing out on the road. But there was no one there. The environment was as empty as it had been for the past several minutes, or however long it had been since he'd regained consciousness.

He shrugged. _I must've hit my head pretty hard._ He turned back to the car.

"Sammy!"

This time he spun around quickly, ready to confront whoever or whatever it was. It was a female's voice, sounding very similar to the one that he thought he heard in the hallway outside of his apartment the night he met Clay, which seemed so long ago now. What was this, a practical joke? A hallucination? Whatever it was, it was getting old.

"Sammy, I'm over here!"

This time it sounded like it came from further in the woods. He turned warily away from the road.

At first, he saw nothing but trees. It was almost impossible to make anything out through the foliage. It was almost an entire forest of green in front of him, save for a few brown branches here and there.

_Who in their right mind would be out there?_ Sam thought. _There's nothing out there._

But then he saw it. In the sea of green ahead of him, he could make out a patch of darker green. Squinting, determined to make it out properly, it looked like someone was actually standing there in a green jacket. He shook his head. Was he seeing right? He rubbed his temples for a few moments and looked back, certain whatever it was would be gone. Instead, it looked even closer now. He squinted again and saw that it was indeed a person.

"Who-?"

"Sammy!" The voice echoed through the trees, almost forcing Sam to take a step backward. He knew that sound usually echoed in environments like this, but this voice still sounded...different. It felt vibrant in some way. He couldn't put his finger on it. And who was it calling his name? He closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate. When he opened them, the person was closer again, this time only about fifty feet away.

It was a woman, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a white T-shirt underneath an olive-green jacket with blue jeans and what looked like combat boots. Her eyes were locked onto his, and her mouth curled up into a smile.

Descriptions and images ran through his mind briefly, and he spoke.

"Ch-Charlie?"

Her smile grew wider and, her mouth opened.

"Come with me, Sammy," she said in a soft voice that again seemed to echo off the trees around them. Without another word, she turned and began walking fast into the trees.

"Wait, Charlie!" called Sam, beginning to run after her, his flashlight in hand. "Charlie, wait up!"

* * *

Clay screeched to a halt outside a relatively small brick house on the outskirts of town.

"Don't you have official police planes or something?" Kyle asked.

"Nope. Not in a town this size," Clay replied, "but stuff like this really makes me wish we did."

He and Kyle got out along with John and Jessica in the backseat, both of whom eagerly volunteered to go with him. Carlton had wanted to come along, but his condition rendered it unwise. Besides, someone needed to keep his mother company. Clay decided it would be better for him to stay on the ground to hone in on any reports they may give him.

"So who is this again we're seeing?" John asked.

"An old retired friend of mine from the department," said Clay. "He owes me a few favors."

Clay gave a few sharp knocks on the green wooden door. Moments later, a man answered. He had the face of an elderly man in his seventies but the body of an athlete. His hair was gray, clearly showing age. Jessica noted he looked very similar to Clay but only older and more somber.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in," he said with a toothy grin, extending a hand. "I'd almost thought you'd forgotten about me. What happened to all those visits you promised, eh?"

"I've been busy," said Clay, returning the smile and handshake. "How've you been, Bill?"

"Aside from the bad news on the TV every day and Alyssa constantly grumbling about not hearing from our kids every few minutes, not too bad. What's been going on since I left? I've heard some interesting reports about more kidnaps."

"That's all behind us," said Clay hopefully. "Taken care of for good, but that's not why we're here."

"Oh?" said Bill. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Clay sighed. "Do you still have that old hunk of junk?"

Bill's face dropped, his confusion evident in his wrinkles. "Yeah, it's in the back. Haven't used it in a few years, though. These bones aren't as young as they used to be. Why?"

"It's a long story," said Clay, "but I'll give you the essentials. May we come in?"

Bill hesitated, finally giving the others a good look, before nodding. "Sure. Come on in."

Clay glanced at Kyle, who gave him a concerned look.

"Hunk of junk?"

* * *

"Charlie, wait!"

Sam's knees were beginning to protest. He had no idea what time it was. To his disappointment, he had discovered that his watch had shattered upon impact in the car. It was a cheap digital watch with a screen that was now completely black. He had no idea how long he'd been chasing after her, but his only guess was at least an hour. Where was she taking him, and why was she running from him in the first place? If she was leading him somewhere, she could at least talk to him, say hi to him after all these years, and walk with him. If she clearly knew who he was and called him out by name, why the chase? It didn't make sense.

He stopped to catch his breath. The wind picked up a little bit. The breeze flew past Sam's face and he sighed. He needed that. He still wasn't sure exactly how injured he was. He might have a concussion, and his arm was still hurting. It didn't feel broken, but it had definitely been crushed.

"Sammy!"

That voice echoed again through the trees and he looked over to its direction...or at least the direction he thought it had come from. Charlie was nowhere to be found.

_What is this? A game?_

A game. Hide and seek, perhaps? Was Charlie so excited to see him alive after thinking he was the one dead (according to John) that she couldn't help but play a game? But why here and now? Why all the walking? His mind was hurting more and more with each passing moment.

"Sammy!"

It was louder this time, making him jump. He turned and saw her again standing about fifty feet in front of him. She waved at him and smiled before turning and walking down a hill out of sight.

"Charlie, where are you going? What is all this about?" Sam said, moving toward where she was only moments before. When he approached the top of the hill, she was already at the bottom.

_How is she moving so fast?_ he thought, taking off after her again as best as he could. _It doesn't even look like she's actually running!_

He stopped dead in his tracks. _It doesn't even look like she's running. She's just walking._

He looked down the hill. She had stopped once more and was staring back at him. Even from a distance, he could see the details of her face. Her eyes were wide, her hair perfectly matted and combed, which was a bit weird considering her constant running. Her smile faltered slightly upon seeing his hesitation. Raising a hand, she beckoned toward him.

Sam remained rooted to his spot, unsure of what to do. His mind was racing. He still desperately wanted to catch up to her, to wrap his arms around her and embrace her, to ask her all the questions he had. Why was she being so mysterious?

As if she understood his dilemma, she extended her arms as though ready to receive his embrace. Sam relented, pushing his doubts from his mind and took off running down the hill, only subtly picking up on a recently-familiar sense of nausea.

* * *

"Well, here she is!" Bill proudly exclaimed, gesturing to the old single-engine aircraft. It was old, dark blue, paint peeling off. The right-wing looked like it

"And how old is this exactly?" Kyle asked.

"1946."

"'46?" Kyle exclaimed. "That old? Really?"

Bill nodded, his pride still evident on his face. "But don't judge the book by its cover," he said, walking over and banging on the side. "She still runs beautifully, at least she did when I last took her out. What were you looking for anyway?" His smile fell a little out of curiosity.

"Someone who's gone missing," Clay explained.

"Oh, really? Suspect?"

"Well…" Clay wasn't sure exactly how to explain it without giving too much unnecessary details away. "Let's just say we're looking for someone who's not really in their right state of mind right now." Bill shot him a confused look, but Clay shook his head. "Don't ask."

Bill raised his hands. "Alright, you're the boss, now." He turned to Kyle. "So you think you can fly her, kid?"

Kyle, who had opened the door and was already acquainting himself with the inside, scowled. Being called "kid" reminded him of that day.

"Yeah, I think so," he said irritably.

"You know how to work the flaps?"

"Yeah."

"You know where the throttle is?"

"Yeah."

"You know how-?"

"He's fine, Bill. He does this all the time," said Clay reassuringly, giving Kyle a hopeful glance. Kyle nodded.

"Yeah, I got this," he said, turning to the concerned looks Jessica and John were giving him. "Relax," he told them. "I've flown planes like this all the time back home, or at least they were close to this."

John and Jessica looked at each other, still suspicious of what they were getting into, but reluctantly climbed aboard behind Kyle.

Bill turned to Clay. "You're not going with them?"

Clay shook his head. "I want to keep my eyes open down here. Your radio still work?"

Bill nodded. "It's dusty, but it should still work."

"Good. Get it up and running. I want to be able to move as soon as they find something."

"You're pretty desperate to find this guy. Who is he, anyway?"

Clay sighed. "The relative of an old friend."

* * *

As the propellers sprang to life, Kyle let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Good. I was a little worried for a second there."

"Why?" Jessica asked, her worry still clearly etched onto her face.

"Well, from what I hear, if the propeller doesn't start by the second or third attempt, there's a good chance it'll fail in midair," said Kyle simply, giving a small shrug. "Or at least that's what my dad's friends told me. Some of them are real jokesters, though. That's probably where my sense of humor comes from." He gave a small laugh in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"And if it fails like that while we're up in the air..." Jessica thought aloud.

"...then this baby'll get a mind of its own and decide to pursue its lifelong dream of being a miner or a submarine," said Kyle, smirking when he saw Jessica's face sink even further.

"Let's just get up in the air," said John, annoyed but with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I want to find Sam as soon as possible."

"Yeah, definitely," said Kyle, gently coasting the plane forward out onto the makeshift runway Bill had created in his backyard.

Jessica turned to John. "John, are you okay?"

He looked back at her. "What do you mean?"

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

He said nothing, trying his best to keep his face blank but his eyes were betraying him. "I'll be okay when we find him."

Jessica sat back in her seat, turning away and looking out her window as the plane began picking up speed.

"Buckle up, we're taking off!" Kyle announced, followed the upward sensation enveloping their stomachs as the plane lifted upward toward the sky. "Oh, what a beautiful rise that was!"

John and Jessica both fell back into their seats. Jessica was clutching the sides very tightly, making John chuckle slightly. He remembered her telling him and the others about her fear of flying when they were kids. The fact that their pilot was about their age probably wasn't helping, either.

At the controls, Kyle picked up the radio receiver. "Clay, can you hear me?"

"Affirmative," came Clay's voice from the other end. "How are you doing up there?"

"Fine. Controls are a little rusty, but I think we'll manage."

"Okay. Let me know as soon as you find something."

"Roger that," said Kyle, putting the receiver down. "Alright," he announced proudly. "Let's go find Sam!"

* * *

At his end, Clay put back his receiver and sat with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Even though it was a little past noon at this point, he didn't feel like drinking anything else. He wanted something to keep him alert.

"They doing alright?" Bill said, appearing from the kitchen.

"Sounds like it," said Clay. "I think they'll be fine."

"That's good. I told you, that old thing was a beauty back in her heyday. She may not look good now, but she gets the job done."

"I don't doubt it," said Clay quietly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"You sure? I haven't seen you look like that since...well…"

_Since the incidents all those years ago._ Clay got the implication.

"I'll be fine. Just nervous."

"So who is this guy you're looking for, anyway?" Bill asked, approaching the table.

Clay sighed. He hadn't really wanted to go into detail, but Bill was an old friend whose equipment they were currently borrowing.

"Do you remember Henry, the owner?"

"Of Freddy's? Yeah. Weird guy, but pretty creative, by the looks of it. Why?"

Clay sighed again. "It's his son."

Bill's eyebrows raised. "He had a son?"

"Yeah."

"Why's he here now?"

"To be honest, I brought him here to help us with an...investigation. Apparently Henry had another restaurant in another town before he came here, and this son of his knows a little bit about it."

"Ah, so he's a witness?"

"You could say that."

"Well, what about his other kid? Didn't he have a daughter, too?"

Clay winced, trying his best to hide it. "She's...not available at the moment."

Bill shrugged. "So why did this kid go missing?"

"I think he's trying to find something on his own."

"What do you mean?"

"Now that he's back, the memories are probably getting to him and he wants to explore more of the town."

"Really?"

Clay looked at Bill. Bill was a close friend whom he'd shared many secrets with back in the day, but this was still a little too personal.

"Yeah, I think so. He left without any word, and his mother's here-"

"Ah, so Mom's worried. I see. Well, I'm sure we'll find him. The town's not that big," Bill said, heading back to the kitchen.

Clay sighed once more. _That's not what I'm worried about._ He remembered Sam's face last night. The sorrow upon learning the truth, the anger when he discovered they were ending their search, the look of utter despair forming deep in his eyes. Clay had seen this exact look one other time: on his father's face the day before he took his own life.

* * *

The plane soared over a mountain's peak a little too close for comfort, making Jessica cringe.

"Sorry," said Kyle, noticing her reaction. "Like I said, still getting used to these controls."

John glanced out the window, eager to take his mind off of the current situation. He looked down at the vast, mostly empty landscapes zooming by below them. Unlike Jessica, he loved flying. He'd always wished he could see the mountains and winding roads from the air. It was like a small, silver line bending to and from through the dirt like a snake, traveling in an unknown direction to an unknown location. Just going, going, going. It reminded him of himself, particularly these last several months. Working in construction, searching for reality in the midst of illusions, soldiering on through it all to an unknown destination. In the back of his mind, once everything hopefully calmed down and got at least somewhat back to normal, perhaps he could write a story about it.

"John?" Jessica said, her voice low and quiet, trying not to draw too much extra attention from Kyle. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her. She had moved slightly closer to him, their faces only about a foot apart now.

"I'll be fine," he said simply, but Jessica didn't budge.

"John, I've seen that face before. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

Their eyes remained locked, and John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated it when she looked at him like that. He always did. Even when they were younger, she could make him confess to almost anything when she gave him that searching look. It reminded him of his mom. One time in kindergarten, he'd put a spider in her lunch, and after drawing everyone's amused attention with her screams, she immediately glared at him and forced his confession despite him trying his hardest to hide his guilty smile.

"Jessica," he began, "do you think that we did the right thing?"

Her glare softened. She was a bit confused now. "Why do you mean?"

"Do you think we did the right thing?"

"When? Last night?"

"More than that, but mostly last night, yeah."

"What about it?"

"Well, to be honest, I feel guilty."

"About what?"

"Everything. About going away like I did, about not telling you the truth sooner, about betraying Sam…"

"Betray? Why do you say that?"

"Jessica, look at what 's happening!" John's voice began rising, anger beginning to reveal itself. "Charlie's gone, Clay shows up with none other than her twin brother whom she'd told me a lot about, and in one night, he discovers everything that's happened. He found out his sister died years ago for crying out loud! And then here I am telling him about seeing her again, giving him that spark of hope that he needs to keep looking for her! And then immediately afterward, all of us, including me, tell him to just give up! What kind of friend does that? And I haven't even been his friend for that long!"

She said nothing, soaking in his words.

"This is my fault, Jessica," he explained, calming down a bit with that weight off of his chest. "I should've stood up for him. I don't know why I didn't. Deep down, I wasn't ready to give up, either, but with everything that was happening, I didn't say anything. I should have. Now look at what's going on. He's gone, and it's because of me."

"Don't say that, John," she said sternly, giving him a warning glance when he tried to protest. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I know was mad at you before, but I understand how hard it must have been for you, knowing what you knew. I wasn't helping with my outbursts, either."

Now John remained silent, turning away from her slowly. He felt like a complete failure. With Charlie gone, the only thing he could do was help connect with her long-lost brother, but now Sam was missing, too. On top of all of that, John was kicking himself for missing several chances to prevent the outburst last night. He felt it still sitting in his pocket, burning for attention like a hot coal. Jessica didn't understand what he was going through. Or maybe she did. Maybe he was being stupid and wrongly isolating himself once more. After a few moments, he spoke.

"Why did all of this have to happen? Life was perfectly normal here, and then what started as a nice reunion two years ago eventually led to this. It's like this town wants to do nothing but ruin people's lives."

"It's okay, John," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him, and I'm on your side about finding her, too."

He looked back at her and she smiled. He couldn't help but smile back. As much as Marla was usually the one with a contagious attitude, Jessica had her own way of spreading her joys from time to time. He turned back to the window as they began flying over the trees, a newer sense of determination rising within him. They would find him. He was certain of it. It was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, something of interest would catch their eye.

"Wait!" Jessica cried suddenly, making John jump in his seat.

"What?" he said, looking over her shoulder out the window.

"Do you see that?" She pointed downward.

"No. What are you seeing?" John said, gently pushing Jessica out of the way, though it was still a harder shove than he intended. She spat hair out of her face and sat up, glaring at him. "Sorry. What do you see?"

"Look down there! At the edge of the treeline there!"

John looked down, eyes still scanning the green and brown below for any sign of interest. Nothing stood out.

"Jessica, I'm not seeing-"

But then, it caught his attention. In the sea of green below, he could make out a small patch of blue.

"Hey, Kyle?"

"Yeah, I see it," he said, grabbing the radio receiver. "Hey, Clay. I think we just found Charlie's car."


	12. The Mysterious Link

As Sam ran down the hill toward his sister's outstretched arms, a small hole in the ground caught his foot and threw him to the ground. He landed on his face, his nose slamming into the dirt and his injured arm screaming at him upon contact. Groaning loudly, he turned over, facing the sky. The sun was directly above him. Surely it was past noon now, meaning his friends probably have been looking for him for hours.

_That's okay_, he thought. _Charlie's here, now_.

But when he glanced upward in the direction she was, she had gone. Frantically, he turned himself over as best as he could, leaning on his good arm. The place where she had just been standing literally seconds before was now completely empty.

Sam blinked profusely, anger seeping into him once more. What was this? He would've thought that his long lost sister would love to see her brother again, but instead, she was playing this game with him. He wondered again whether this was a game. Could she really not resist the urge to take this trip down memory lane? It seemed likely, perhaps, but then again they weren't kids anymore. Based on her friends' testimonies of her as a late teen like himself, she sounded relatively normal if not a little recluse.

_Be very careful_, he suddenly heard his mother's voice echo in his head. _Anger and desperation can lead to trouble._ _It can make illogical things suddenly sound perfectly reasonable. _

He cringed. After the screaming-her-head-off part of her lecture, which went on for what felt like hours, she had told him that after he'd come to Kyle's aid in the fight started by him and Johnny Wilhelm back home. It was still an embarrassing memory for them both, and he shoved it to the back of his mind as he struggled back onto his feet.

Upon standing, he felt suddenly overwhelmed by a pain in his stomach. He grabbed his stomach and bent over, gagging. There was a slight ringing in his ears. After a few moments, the pain finally subsided, but the ringing remained.

_Seriously, what is that? It almost sounds like-_

He paused, remembering John's words from last night.

_"It was nauseating. Every time it was active, I felt like I wanted to hurl."_

What had he been talking about? He was talking about the impostor version of his sister, fooling everyone and revealing itself in the most dangerous of ways. But according to John, both robotic bodies were still where they were left, and according to what Clay had mentioned, the imposter's corpse had been burned as well. Then again, if Charlie was still around somehow, could her doppelganger be as well?

Picking up the flashlight from the ground, he continued moving slowly toward where his sister just was, struggling as each step sunk deeper into the mud. When he reached the spot, he looked down and noticed something suspicious.

_Where are her footprints?_

Given the monsoon-like downpour that caused him to end up in this position, the ground was too wet to walk through without leaving obvious footprints. He looked back at his own muddy track as it descended from up the hill. Yet, his tracks were the only ones. No sign of any other.

_Am I imagining it after all? Is this all in my mind?_

He thought back to John's story.

_"It's like she was never there. The sheets didn't even look ruffled or anything, but I know she was there. I saw her clear as day."_

Sam shook his head, putting a hand up to his forehead. It didn't make sense. Part of him told him that he was being stupid, hallucinating that he was seeing his dead sister after possible suffering a head injury, being too optimistic for rational thought. Another part of him argued that John said that he clearly saw her too, and he wasn't injured.

_Still, he seemed flustered. Perhaps he wasn't seeing clearly._

_Or maybe he was. Maybe there is hope after all. Maybe...just maybe...Charlie is still somehow alive and you should keep searching for her. Find her: you need closure with her._

"But where do I start?" he argued verbally, his own voice startling him a little. He realized he hadn't actually spoken out loud in some time. "I don't even know where I am."

As he looked around the clearing he was in, surrounded by trees and a few rocks. He wasn't sure how far off the road he had traveled chasing what he thought was his sister, but he imagined it had been pretty far, given the time that had passed. His left arm was beginning to hurt even more now, and the big flashlight in his right hand was weighing it down considerably. He felt like he was carrying too much weight to go on running. Perhaps he should turn back. He didn't want to kill himself.

As he turned to locate his footprints, he noticed something behind one of the trees. It looked like a radio tower antenna, only not as tall, though clearly visible through the trees.

_A radio tower? Maybe that's my shortcut outta here!_

He began moving slowly in the direction of the antenna.

* * *

Kyle and the others watched as the tow truck began attempting to pull Charlie's car from the ditch. Clay was speaking with one of the other guys on the crew before walking over to them.

"So where's Sam?" Jessica asked, worry evident in her voice.

"Your guess is as good as mine. He's not around," said Clay.

Jessica huffed. It was an obvious answer, but she couldn't stop herself from asking anyway.

"Do you think he's okay?" John asked.

"Hard telling," said Clay. "It looks like the tree damaged the car beyond repair. As for Sam, I have no idea since he's not here. All I can say for certain as that he obviously didn't die...at least not immediately after impact." His voice was somber. He was trying to remain professional and honest while repressing his worry.

"But is he ok, do you think?" Jessica asked desperately.

"I have no idea," said Clay. "He could be anywhere right now. It looks like he was trying to head back to his father's house, but he must've taken a wrong turn. I'll call in some help and send a group ahead once we get this tree cleared. I'll send another group over to Henry's house to see if he happened to make it back there." He began walking back over to his car parked nearby out of the way of the path. He opened the door and began speaking into his radio.

"This is bad," said Jessica, her voice almost a whisper.

"What do you mean? That's Sam's still missing?" asked John. "Personally, I think it's better this way. If he was here, there's a good chance he'd be dead. At least we know he's alive."

"Is he?" said Jessica, turning to him. "How do you know? He could've wandered off and died somewhere else!" Her voice was becoming high and shrill again and her eyes were wide in panic. She looked and sounded like she was about to start hyperventilating. "Some of these woods go on for miles! And the mountains! What about them? Even if he's okay, he could be lost out there somewhere! What would we tell his mother?! She'd have a heart attack!"

John glanced at Kyle, who only shrugged. Even without words, his face relayed the message pretty well: _You know her better than I do. You have to deal with her. _

"You're right, John," Jessica continued, turning and starting to pace. "You're right. We should've said something last night. Poor Sam probably thinks we're all against him, now. That's why he's striking off on his own like this. Has he done this before, Kyle?"

"What?" said Kyle, who'd been looking over at the wrecked car. "Oh. No, he hasn't. This really isn't like him at all." It seemed pointless to say since he'd made it pretty clear last night, but he figured Jessica needed the confirmation more than anything right now.

"Yeah. You see?" Jessica went on. "Now we need to think here. Where could he have gone from here? Maybe he kept walking down the road? Or maybe he caught another ride somewhere."

"Jessica," John interjected, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Yeah, maybe someone else was driving this way, and he caught a ride with them. Maybe he's at his dad's house. Or maybe at Fredbear's, or whatever that place is…"

"Jessica," John said again, growing more concerned. Still no acknowledgment.

"What we could do is split up. We can tell Clay to go one way, and we go the other...No, wait. He already said he was going to do that. Maybe we can tell the mayor, organize a city-wide search, and-"

"JESSICA!" John shouted, gripping her arms tightly and shaking her. "Calm down. You're having a panic attack."

"I AM NOT!" she shouted back, drawing several eyes over to them. "I'm just worried!"

"And I'm not?!" John retorted. "What happened to the conversation we had in the plane? What happened to the Jessica who just gave me hope? Now she's the one losing it!"

"That was before we found Charlie's car smashed and Sam nowhere to be seen! We have to find him soon!"

"I know that. We've established that long before this. You're losing it."

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've already lost Charlie-"

"Don't say that. You said-"

"I know what I said, but listen: We don't know anything for sure about her. Even if she is still alive somehow, you said yourself that she wasn't even a real person the whole time. Do you know how I felt hearing that for the first time? It's like she's already dead to me! I'm not losing her brother now, too."

"Is that what this is about?" John asked. "You think that Sam's gonna go the same way as Charlie?"

"He might if we just keep standing here arguing instead of doing something."

"What exactly do you propose we do? We have no idea where he is! Since when is stopping to think a bad idea?"

"Look who's talking," Jessica retorted. "You've done a lot of thinking lately, haven't you. That's why we almost never see you anymore. At least I'm upfront with my feelings. All you do is hide your emotions behind a wall of uninterest and isolation."

There was silence as John and Jessica stared angrily at one another, their eyes locked in a deathmatch. John was fuming. Was she really daring to imply now of all times that he cared about Charlie less than she did? They had shared so much with one another. The two of them were probably Charlie's closest friends, and they both knew that. But now, their own relationship was put on a tightrope.

Similar thoughts were racing through Jessica's mind. She knew meant well, but he had his moments of completely separating himself from the world, including those who loved and cared about him. He had done it when Charlie miraculously showed up at the diner to surprise them. Granted, she turned out to be an imposter, but still, John's company for this event was missed. And then when he left the hospital after boldly telling Clay that they would never find Charlie their friend, and left without so much as a goodbye, never to be seen again until only last night. She loved him dearly as a friend, but his habit of disappearing was becoming increasingly frustrating and even heartbreaking.

The silence was finally broken by Clay clearing his throat.

"Am I interrupting something here?"

"No," said John bitterly, turning to him. "What's going on?"

"Well, the towing guys need to bring out some other equipment. It looks like there are some tree branches caught in the windows and the guys don't want to get their truck stuck in the mud. They need to grab some tools from their shop, and I need to organize a search party. Unfortunately, my radio's signal isn't the best out here, so I'm gonna try up the road a little three stay here. I'll be right back." Without another word, he hopped in his car and drove out of sight, the tow truck right behind him. Jessica and John turned back to one another.

"You think I don't care?" John asked her. "You think I'm not concerned about Sam? Or Charlie? I know I pprobably shouldn't have left or cut myself off like I did. I realize that. I admit that, but don't think that I don't care."

"Well, you have a lousy way of showing it," said Jessica irritably. "I meant what I said. When Charlie, the _other_ Charlie, came back and I thought it was really her, and I told you that your isolation was what was killing her, I meant it at the time. To be honest, it was killing me, too."

John said nothing. He only looked at her as her eyes began to water.

She gave a heavy sigh. "I guess I can't completely blame you, though. Oh, John...why did all of this have to happen? Michael and the others, Charlie, everything else. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't this happen to somebody else while we have normal lives. It's bad enough that might have lost Charlie. Sam showing up is a miracle. I can't stand the thought of losing him too." She broke off, her voice unable to form more words. John walked forward and pulled her into an embrace.

"I've been thinking the same thing," he said, flashing a small smile. "I guess it was my turn to be the reminder."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry I snapped at you. When we saw Charlie's car wrecked like this, I panicked."

"And I didn't? The important thing is that he's probably still okay. All we have to do is find him. Wherever he is, he's got to be around somewhere."

"These trees go on for miles," Jessica pointed out again. "Where do we even start?

"How about over here?" called Kyle suddenly from over near the car. "Come take a look at this."

They walked over to where he was crouching. He was staring down at something on the ground.

"What is it?" John asked.

"There." Kyle pointed down at the ground. Right in front of them leading into the woods, clearly visible in the mud, was a footprint.

* * *

Hannah blew her nose into a tissue and wiped her eyes. She'd been crying all morning almost nonstop since Clay and the other left. Carlton handed her another box which she took with a small smile.

"Thanks."

Carlton nodded and sat back. The two of them had been sitting at the kitchen table. Part of him felt bad about sitting there, watching the mother of his friend cry herself dry while he did nothing, but his dad had told him to comfort her, and given that he was still in trouble from sneaking out yesterday, he didn't dare disobey. Besides, the rising emotions and tensions had drained his interest in doing anything else. All he could do was watch her constantly blow her nose and break down, debating on what to say, should he dare try to speak.

After another fifteen minutes of silence, Carlton turned to look out the window. His mind began wandering. The sun was in a high enough position to almost blind him, but he continued staring. He thought about Charlie, the Charlie they all knew. He envisioned her clearly in his mind, her brown hair, big brown eyes, smiling face, green jacket, all of it. He remembered her voice, usually soft and caring. She had always put her friends' wellbeing above her own, like when she risked her own safety helping him out of that suit Afton had put him in. She had her quiet moments, a sharp contrast to his personality, but she was very lovable, not that he ever told her that. There were fragment

_She never told me about her brother_, he thought. _She never told anyone...except John._

Where was she now? If she was still alive, as one could hope, she'd probably be dying to see her long lost brother again after all these years, according to John. She'd been through a lot. They all had, but her more so than anyone else...except for perhaps her father. Her father, the genius they all admired as children, the one responsible for the animatronics they all loved. The man who, as time soon revealed, lost his daughter and dedicated the rest of his life tormented by that tragedy so much that he built another daughter, the one they had all come to know as their friend Charlie.

And then, in a weird twist of fate, another dangerous (and more attractive) version of Charlie shows up and causes mayhem. She had seemed so real, so lifelike, so _Charlie_, that it wasn't too surprising that only John, the one closest to Charlie, would smell a rat.

Carlton closed his eyes as he remembered with a small shudder his close call with the robotic Charlie in Jessica's apartment. _"There's only one way to really be sure how you feel,"_ was the last thing he'd heard before what he thought was his friend changed into an intimidating robotic creature with a face splitting open in front of him. Fortunately, he had the earpiece with him to make him invisible in her eyes. That was the last he ever saw of her. In fact, he never saw their Charlie again either. In fact, that was probably the hardest part out of all of this. That was his final memory of her...or at least something that was trying to be her. He already lost one friend years ago, now it felt like he'd lost another.

Another blow into a tissue followed by a loud sniffle turned his attention back to Charlie's mother, still sitting beside him at the kitchen table. He once again debated whether or not he should speak, but was still at a loss for words, so he turned back to the window when she suddenly spoke instead.

"What was she like?"

He turned back to her. She was looking at him with her wet, red eyes.

"Who?"

"Charlie. She was your friend, right?"

He nodded.

"So…" She trailed off, trying to ask it without it sounding too awkward. "What was..._she_…like?"

Carlton blinked, looking deep into her eyes. "You mean...Charlie? Our...friend?"

Hannah nodded, and Carlton understood why. She and Sam had left relatively early in her husband's mission to recreate their daughter, and after all these years of wondering, she found herself alone with one of the friends of this invented daughter of hers. Naturally, she was curious.

"Well, she was..._normal_," Carlton told her. "I mean, yeah, she was a little quiet sometimes, but for the most part, she seemed perfectly normal. None of us ever suspected..._anything_...until just recently. We played together all the time as kids, and she still seemed like the same person deep down when we all met together again for the ceremony a few years ago."

Hannah nodded, looking grimly down at the kitchen table. So it was true. Henry had indeed successfully created something alive and realistic, based on what she'd heard, enough so that it had fooled everyone for years. As devastating as his mental condition had become those last few months before she and Sam left, he was still a genius with a gift beyond even her understanding, and she had dabbled with robotics herself a little bit over the years, too.

"Did she...mention me or her brother at all?" she asked quietly.

Carlton hesitated, trying to rack his brain. Did she? He couldn't recall, but then again he didn't always pay attention to everything. His mind tended to wander quite a bit. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"No, she didn't. Not to me, anyway. You're asking the wrong guy. It's John who spent the most time with her. You'd have to ask him...or Jessica. She spent a lot of time with Charlie, too."

Hannah said nothing. She continued to stare silently down at the kitchen table, much like her son did only sixteen hours ago.

"But hey," Carlton continued. "She was a good friend. We all loved her, and we loved going to her dad's restaurant. It was a lot of fun, and…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. He wanted desperately to lighten the mood, perhaps crack a joke, but his mind was going blank. He was beginning to recognize in her the eerily familiar emotions of grief he'd seen in Michael's parents days after it had happened. A sense of dread and helplessness came creeping into his mind.

_No,_ he told himself firmly._ Not again. She's not dead. John said she's not dead. We'll find her._

"We'll find her," he told her, reaching over to place a hand on hers. She flinched slightly, but looked up at him, locking eyes. He smiled. "She's a tough girl. She always was. Even if she wasn't real, she was real to us. I have faith that everything will be alright."

She stared into his eyes. There was something about him that seemed familiar, even comforting. She remembered hearing that before in her life.

_She sat at their kitchen table, tears pouring down her face as she choked back sobs. The funeral program sat on the table in front of her. She pushed it away, another sob erupting from her throat along with a cry of pain as her pregnant stomach received another kick. She held her hand on her stomach, cradling it. A hand placed itself gently on her shoulder as a picture slid onto the table in front of her. In it, she was standing in a white dress next to her new husband, and they were both smiling. At the bottom written in light blue ink:_

"Have a good life! Love always, Mom and Dad."

"_She wanted you to have it," he told her as he sat down next to her. "It was in her will."_

"_Why did she have to go so soon? Only a month after he did!" she sobbed._

"_I don't know," he said, pulling her into an embrace. "Sometimes, these things just happen this way."_

"_I hate it," she said in a muffled voice. _

"_I know," he told her, "but in only a few months, you'll get to be a mother to our children. Two of them!"_

_She pulled away, looking at him and sniffling._

"_And we'll see them through thick-and-thin, highs and lows, joys and pains, until one day they stand up at their graduation ceremonies as valedictorians and thank their mother for all the love they received in their life!" he finished proudly._

_She laughed. "I don't think there are two valedictorians in the same class."_

"_Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little bit," he said, smiling. "But I'm confident that you will make her proud. She may seem lost now, but she'll be found in the love that you pass on to your children..._our _children."_

"_You really think so?" she asked._

"_Absolutely. I have faith that everything will be alright."_

_He smiled at her, and she smiled back as they pulled each other into another hug._

"Miss Anderson?"

Carlton was staring at her a little concerned.

"Hmm?"

"You're smiling. Are you okay?"

"Am I?" she asked. He nodded. "I'm sorry. It's just...to be honest, you reminded me of my husband a little bit there."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm," she said. "He was always so cheerful and optimistic. It was contagious. He loved the kids more than anything. It was so tragic the day we lost her. I can't entirely blame him for being so devastated. When he finally began to lose his mind, I…" She closed her eyes. "I just couldn't stand to see him of all people fading into insanity the way he did. It broke my heart."

"I understand," said Carlton. "I felt the same way when Michael was taken."

"Was he your friend?"

He nodded.

"Tell me more about him."

* * *

When the building finally came into view, Sam was immediately struck with how old it looked. It was about the size of an elementary school composed entirely of concrete and wood. Sam groaned, his shoulders dropping. The place looked completely abandoned. Aside from the radio tower above, it looked like an average windowless building.

_Come to think of it, why would a radio station be way out here anyway? _Sam thought. It didn't make much sense.

He turned back in the direction that he had come, seeing only a fresh set of footprints coming from the trees. How long had he been walking by now? What time was it? He had no idea. As he turned back to the mysterious building, he figured if nothing else, it might have something he could use. A phone, batteries, maybe even some food. It was worth a try.

He approached the building slowly, trying to ignore the continuing pain from his arm, which had begun to bruise more severely. He tried moving it again, but the pain was too great.

_Perfect,_ he thought. _There's gotta be a first aid kit in here at least._

He approached what looked like the front door of the building. It was a typical glass door with a metal handle like one would find at restaurants. He pulled it. It didn't budge.

_Figures._

He looked around and began searching the perimeter. There had to be some way. He'd been walking around these trees aimlessly for hours, following his sister, so he hoped. Either he had brain damage from the crash and needed refuge somewhere or his sister was trying to lead him here. Either way, he wanted in.

The outside of the building was sealed. There were no windows along the side at all. It was weird; he'd seen radio stations all the time at home, and they all had windows. He'd never seen a building like this one before, so closed off from society and barren, like it was trying to hide something from the world's prying eyes.

He eventually made his way around to the back of the building. This side of the building appeared much darker, mostly because it was in the shade. The air as noticeably cooler, even more than what it should be.

_Something's not right_, Sam thought to himself as he shivered. Despite only walking around a corner, he suddenly felt as though he walked directly into a freezer. His lightweight set of clothes weren't providing him with that much heat. His quivering hands suddenly fumbled the flashlight. It fell to the ground with a thud. As he bent down to pick it up, he felt it again. A sense of being watched, eyes peering at him from somewhere. He looked up...and there she was.

She was standing about fifty feet ahead of him, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, looking much more relaxed than she had before.

"Charlie?" he called, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Is that really you?"

She looked at him for a few moments and giggled. "Of course it's me, silly. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," said Sam, regaining his composure, flashlight somehow held safely in his grip. " just thought you'd be more…more…"

"More what?" she asked with a smile.

"More...emotional."

Her smile faltered slightly and she tilted her head, clearly confused. "Oh?"

"Well, John and the others said you seemed very...I don't know...distressed lately about, well, everything. About Henry-I mean, Dad. About me. About _you_. I just expected us meeting together again would be not as, well...like _this_." He finished with a small embarrassed smile. If this really was her, he was surely making himself look like an idiot.

She said nothing, only studied his face, eyeing him from head to toe. He felt uncomfortable, he felt exposed. It was like his first concert in front of people. It hadn't been a large venue, but there were at least twenty people, meaning forty eyes focused on him during his moments.

Finally, she laughed. "Oh, Sammy. We've been separated for so many years. You couldn't let me pass up an opportunity like this. Remember when we used to play at Fredbear's?"

He remembered. They chased each other, played hide and seek with each other, danced with each other, tackled each other to the ground, everything. They even played games they made up. He couldn't even remember what they were.

"So you're here then?" he asked hesitantly. "You're actually...you know…?"

"Alive?" she finished for him. "Yes, I am. It's amazing, isn't it?"

"But why here?" he asked. "Why bring me to this place? What's so special about here? Come to think of it, how did you even know I was here to begin with?"

"I've been following you."

"You-you have?"

She smiled. "Closer than you know."

He said nothing. What could he say? His own sister, thought to be dead by her friends, was secretly following him the entire time? Why didn't she show herself sooner?

As if she read his mind, she continued, "I'm sorry about being so secret. It's been so hard lately, with Aunt Jen gone and me being nothing but a robot. I just needed some time to think."

"Your friends have been looking for you," Sam pointed out. "Especially John. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"I know he would," she said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, John's been taking my passing really hard. It's better that he doesn't know yet. I mean, he didn't even volunteer to come with you to look for me, right?"

Sam nodded.

"He needs more time, I think. He can get very emotional sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Sam. _He did seem a little shaken up last night. Maybe she's right._

"Come on," she said, waving him over. "I want to show you something."

"Where?"

She nodded toward the building.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"You'll find out," she said with a small giggle before turning and walking down the length of the building. Sam followed, trying to catch up to her but struggling because of his arm, not to mention his legs were getting tired from all the walking.

She rounded the corner ahead of him, and he followed just in time to see her feet, bearing combat boots, disappearing into a small vent opening in the side of the building. He approached the opening and carefully got down on his hands and knees. The mud was deep here, and he struggled with his one good arm to pull himself through the opening.

The room he emerged in was damp and dusty. All it took was one inhale to nearly send him to the ground coughing. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he swatted the air, trying vainly to clear the dust. The flashlight provided a faint yellow glow, just strong enough to make him realize that he was in what appeared to be a janitor's closet of some. The room was small and contained shelves of bottles and boxes, along with the occasional mask. He walked over and picked up one. It was a fox mask with two eyeholes cut cleanly into the front, but it felt heavier than the typical Halloween mask. Perhaps it was a animatronic part that could be worn as part of a suit. Just like that rabbit that took his sister…

_No!_ he thought violently. _I'm not going back to that! Ugh, I HATE closets!_

With the smell overwhelming and his feeling of vomiting starting to return, he walked over to the door and opened it. He emerged in a hallway that split into multiple directions, all of which led only into darkness. The only light came from right next to him. He was next to the front door on the inside.

"Charlie?" he called, somewhat quietly, but loud enough for her to hopefully hear. "Where are you?"

He glanced down one of the hallways which looked like it went on for miles based on what he could see. He looked up and noticed a banner hanging above it, which contained the words written in large Halloween-style orange font:

WELCOME TO FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT!

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, FNAF 3 is probably one of my favorites of the series so I couldn't let this location go. I'd say they're all in for a bit of a rough time real soon!


	13. More Than An Average Haunted House

**A/N:** I hoped to have this up by Halloween, but it ended up being longer than anticipated. Once again, to my anxious readers, many thanks for the patience. Unfortunately, life isn't what it was when I started this story back in June. But don't worry, we're approaching the end soon (I reckon sixteen chapters or so), so even with my delayed updates, I hope to have this story wrapped up by the end of the year. That said, enjoy!

* * *

"How far did he go?" Jessica asked as the three of them continued trailing Sam's muddy footprints through the foliage.

"I don't know," said Kyle, gaining more hope with each step, "but apparently he's found something he was interested in."

"You think?" asked Jessica.

"I wouldn't go this far after an injury like that if I didn't have a good reason," Kyle explained, "and neither would he."

"It seems he can't be that injured, then," John added, looking to Jessica. She nodded.

"I guess not. We just have to catch up to him."

They continued walking, keeping tabs on the mud tracks as they shifted and turned. After about thirty minutes, Jessica groaned.

"You alright?" John asked her.

"I'm not used to walking this much," she said, bending down to rub her ankle. "My feet are killing me!"

"Join the club," announced Kyle with a small scoff as they kept walking deeper into the foliage.

"John," Jessica whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

"Yeah?"

"Is this reminding you of anything?"

"What?"

"Wandering through the forest looking for a friend?"

He remembered. They had done this in the dead of night seven months ago with Clay as they had followed the Freddy's animatronics, which were presumably going after Charlie, and eventually ended up in Afton Robotics Inc. located directly under Charlie's house, likely not too far from their current location.

"You think we're gonna find something related to Afton out here?"

She shuddered. "I hope not, but...don't you think it's a little deja vu?"

He shrugged. "I guess so. I didn't really think of it that much, though. I mean, Afton's gone for good now, right?"

She hesitated. "I hope so, but we've thought that before, haven't we?"

"Carlton said he was."

"I know, but Carlton also said he was in a bit of an altered state of reality at the moment."

"He wouldn't lie to us," John protested. "Not during a moment like that."

"I know he wouldn't, but how can he be so sure that Afton did actually die? I mean, we _did_ think he died before."

That was true. It was just like in the movies. It seemed like Afton was the super bad guy who not only made people want to hate him but didn't seem to die when he was supposed to, either. He just kept surviving, and every time he did, there was more chaos involving missing children. It made him sick to think about. But still, being seized by his own creation, what he created in his attempt at immortality, and having it throw him into a burning inferno? That was tough to survive, even for him. No amount of skill or luck getting out of spring-locked death traps could help him there.

"You may be right," he told her, "but let's not jump to conclusions. We still need to find Sam."

She nodded.

"Hey, guys?" called Kyle from about twenty feet ahead of them. "Are either of you familiar with what radio station broadcasts from way out here?"

John and Jessica stopped moving and looked at each other, clearly confused.

"No. There are no radio stations way out here," John said.

Kyle shook his head and pointed. Through the trees, just visible between branches was an antenna looming in the distance.

* * *

Sam continued staring down the long dark hallway ahead of him. There was no light coming from anywhere except the windows directly behind him. The more he stared down the dark, menacing looking hallway, the more unease he felt.

_Monsters_, a voice inside him suddenly spoke. _Spiders. Ghosts. Witches. Haunted house._

_This isn't a haunted house,_ he argued back. It's just an abandoned building. _I'm just trying to find Charlie._

As if on cue, a voice called out from down the hall.

"Sammy!" It was Charlie.

"Charlie?" he called back.

"Sammy! Over here!"

"Where?" he called, taking a step forward. "Where are you?"

"In here!"

About twenty feet ahead of him, a figure peered out of a doorway. The darkness obscured the fine details, but after squinting, he recognized her face.

"Charlie? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, silly. Come on! Let's have some fun!" She disappeared into the doorway, giggling.

He ran forward toward the open doorway, away from the light. As he approached, he realized the hallway ahead of him had come to an abrupt end. From the front, it looked like it went on forever, but now he was facing a wall with two doors on either side, both leading into what appeared to be a dark room. He turned to where Charlie had disappeared and stepped inside carefully.

As soon as he set foot inside the room, lights immediately flickered on and the room adopted a dim blue hazy glow. A stereo somewhere also seemed to activate, because an eerie sound began emitting from overhead speakers.

"What is this?" he asked himself.

He looked around and noticed piles of boxes stacked into corners of the room. From the looks of it, it contained spare parts from animatronics. He walked over to one large box in the corner. Inside he saw what looked like two masks, a red fox mask and a light blue rabbit mask. Beneath it were a series of other masks, some playful and cheery, some looking more menacing, as if they were meant to be worn by employees to scare people. Another box nearby contained a mess of random animatronic parts cluttered together. Some looked like they were completely broken, others looked old and worn out, and others were completely new.

"What is all this?" he asked.

"It's a playhouse!" came Charlie's voice. He turned. Standing in another doorway across the room, a wide smile on her face, was Charlie.

"Charlie, this isn't my idea of fun!" he protested.

"Why not?" she asked, her voice oozing disappointment and even offense as her smile faltered.

"It's weird!" he said. "All these old animatronic parts and crazy-looking masks. It looks like some sick freak show haunted house or something! Why can't we just go somewhere else? Or just talk?"

"I've been waiting too long to see you again!" she protested, her smile and excitement suddenly returning as quickly as it had faded. "We can talk later! I want to make up for all the years we've spent apart!"

With another giggle, she turned and ran into the other room. Sam shook his head in bewilderment.

_This doesn't sound like her,_ he thought. _Everyone said she was usually pretty quiet and reserved. I would've thought she outgrew this stuff. I know I have!_

"Come on, Sammy!" her voice called suddenly from the other room. "Don't be a scaredy-cat!"

Sam felt his stomach sink. "Scaredy-cat?" he said. "Who's she calling a scaredy-cat?" He ran through the doorway into another hallway. This time, he found himself facing three doors, each one branching off into another hallway.

"Are you kidding me?" he muttered. "It's a maze? I've never been good at mazes!"

He slowly approached the split, glancing back and forth between the doors. Which way should he go? He had no idea. Any one of them could lead practically anywhere. But which one did Charlie take? After some hesitation, he entered the middle door.

The room was slightly bigger than the previous, and slightly darker. Unlike the last room, it contained old arcade games. The entire perimeter was lined with arcade games stashed next to each other. It looked like he'd walked into an old gaming center. Either that, or an old pizzeria.

_Carlton mentioned there were arcade games at Freddy's,_ he thought. _There weren't any at Fredbear's, but Freddy's was different._ _Freddy's was newer, and...bigger._

The thought suddenly occurred to him. Was this another one of Henry's establishments? Had he, alone or with Afton, built another attraction in the middle of the woods?

_But why a haunted house? Wasn't he already bothered enough with what already happened?_

Sam walked over to one of the games. The console had two levers, one vertical and one horizontal, along with three buttons colored red, green, and blue. The console and screen were both covered with dust, but the game itself looked relatively new, like it had never been touched before. He jiggled the levers and pressed the buttons. Nothing happened.

"So much for this," he said, turning to examine some of the other games, all of which gave similar results. It was a shame. Some of the games he was familiar with from the arcades back at home. He even saw his favorite of all: Pacman. He loved Pacman, especially when he ate the invincibility power-ups so he could turn the tables on the ghosts. Unfortunately, it was also powerless. With a sigh, he continued.

He made his way to about halfway through the games when something caught his attention. From the doorway to the next room came another noise, but it wasn't Charlie. It didn't even sound like a voice. It almost sounded like a wolf's growl, only lower and much more menacing. He stood motionless, paralyzed with fear, as he stood watching the door, not saying a word. Then, as if whatever it was sensed his attention, it stopped.

"H-hello?" he called, his voice suddenly dry and weak. "Who's there?"

No answer.

"Charlie? Where are you? Are you there?"

No answer. With every muscle in his body protesting, he slowly began moving toward the doorway from which the unsettling growling had come. When he finally saw inside, he noticed nothing but more boxes full of spare parts.

"H-hello?" he called again.

"_Hello?"_

Sam jumped. It was a voice, but a little boy's voice, one who was a few years old probably. He looked around but saw no one.

"_Hi!"_

There it was again, this time a little louder. Sam continued glancing around nervously, looking for any sign of life as he finally took a step forward. The room suddenly felt very stale, and the nauseating feeling suddenly returned as his injured brain began protesting.

A laugh suddenly echoed from directly to his right. He turned and found himself face-to-face with a small boy standing only a few feet tall.

"Hello?" Sam asked. "Are you ok?"

The boy didn't move, but the flickering light revealed that it wasn't a real boy, but rather an animatronic. It looked relatively new, and sounded new as well, but it was blackened, as if it had been burned.

Sam was about to take a step closer when, in a flash of blinding light, the boy lunged at him, screaming a loud, metallic-sounding shriek. Losing his balance, Sam fell backward onto the ground, reaching up to cover his head.

"_Daddy, is it going to get me?"_

"_No, Charlie. It's just a tree. It won't bother you."_

_They were leaving Fredbear's for the night. It was nearly eleven at night. Henry had to stay behind to take care of some things and their mother and Aunt Jen were busy. Sam and Charlie were both very tired, but the tree out front was enough to keep Charlie awake and alert._

"_I don't like the branches! It looks like it has arms."_

"_They're just branches, Charlie," he told his sister. "They're not alive."_

_She looked at him with wide eyes that narrowed slightly in anger._

"_They move!" she cried. "They always move whenever we go by!"_

"_That's the wind, honey," Henry told them, trying to hurry them along through the night toward the car. "There's nothing to be afraid of."_

"_I'm scared, Daddy!" she whined, starting to cry. Henry let go of Sam's hand and bent down to comfort and hug his sister. _

_Sam looked back at the tree. Come to think of it, it did look creepy. He used to be a little scared of it, too, until he realized that it never actually did anything to hurt them. In fact, it didn't even look alive that much when he really studied it. It was just an old, bent tree. _

_He turned back to Henry and Charlie, only to discover to his horror that they weren't there. He looked around and saw that they were nowhere to be found. The wind picked up drastically, making the entire tree sway back and forth with unsettling creaking noises. He turned back to it. It looked like it was waving at him in the wind, which he did not find very comforting given the circumstances. He took a step toward it and placed a small hand onto the bark. It felt rough and broken. He moved his hand across the trunk. Maybe it was trying to tell him something. Maybe Charlie was right and this tree was alive, but was trying to actually help him. What if it was trying to point him in the direction in which they had hurried off._

_The train of thought was interrupted as a black, matted hand emerged from around the tree and grabbed his hand, crushing it in its grasp. Sam screamed and tried vainly to pull his arm away as a head emerged from around the tree. It was that black figure with piercing white eyes and a smile more crooked than a road on a mountain. He felt a warm breath on his face as he saw the smile widen to reveal canine teeth and a protruding snout. Sam screamed and looked away, trying vainly to pull himself away as he heard the creature snarl menacingly._

His eyes shot open as alarm bells blared all around him. A blinding red light was flashing, forcing him to squint as he slowly picked himself up off of the cold hard floor. The animatronic boy was gone.

"What is going on?" he said as he finally got back to his feet. "What was that?"

"Sammy!" It was Charlie's voice again, coming from further down the corridor ahead. "Come on! This is fun!"

"Charlie, stop!" he cried as he began moving with a purpose toward the next room.

* * *

"Are you crazy?" Jessica cried as the three of them stood in the small clearing, gazing at the building ahead of them. "I'm not going in there!"

"Yeah," John agreed. "Sorry, Kyle. We've been inside enough abandoned places for my liking recently, and every time, someone usually gets hurt."

"This is where Sam's footprints lead," Kyle pointed out, still visually following the fading yet visible mud tracks leading toward the building. "Come on. We're here to find him, aren't we?"

He gestured them to follow and began walking toward the building, John and Jessica reluctantly behind him. As they drew closer to the building, they noticed that it looked old and abandoned, yet still structurally sound.

"What is this place?" Jessica asked, still wary about their decision.

John only shook his head. He was as confused as she was. The furthest he'd ever gone into the wooded area was Charlie's house, and even then, he'd never traveled far. The closest they got to the woods was the day he went home with a supposedly injured nose after bumping it against her. It was such a distant memory that he still remembered clearly. What boy wouldn't remember the day he almost kissed a girl he liked?

Jessica grunted as she almost lost her footing in the mud. She looked down at herself in pain.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No!" she said sharply. "These shoes were brand new!"

John groaned. _Classic Jessica._

When they reached the door, John stepped ahead of them and peered through the window.

"It's empty," he announced.

"So let's get outta here," said Jessica, nearly frantic at this point. "I don't want to hang around here."

"Jessica, it's an abandoned building. It's not like this is another one of Afton's places."

"You don't know that," she said. "Knowing that maniac, I wouldn't put it past him. Besides, it still feels creepy, like there's an odd sense of something familiar, and bad, about this place."

"Jessica…"

"Don't you feel it, John?"

He paused. She was right. There was a certain heaviness in the air. At first, he thought it was mainly the humidity caused by the heat and rain, but here, it felt stronger. It felt disorienting, and it even had a sense of being alive and vibrant. His brain was beginning to feel the pulses of it and he could detect the slightest hum in the air as his stomach began to quiver.

"Yeah. It feels familiar. To be honest, it kind of reminds me of...well, you know…"

"John!" Jessica whispered in a panic. "Do you think that _she's_ here?"

"The other Charlie?" John guess, which she confirmed with a nod. "I don't know. I hope not."

"You said you saw Charlie, though."

"Yeah, I did. I'm not crazy, Jessica! I saw her clear as day! I spoke to her!"

"I'm not saying you're crazy, John, but if you're right, and Charlie is somehow still here…"

She trailed off, and John knew where she was going. _What if her doppelganger is still here too?_

"Over there!" Kyle called, pointing again. They looked and saw more footprints leading around the building. "He went that way!"

"Are you sure?" Jessica asked. "I mean, no offense, but are we positive we're following _his_ footprints?"

"We have to be!" Kyle insisted, the sudden force in his voice startling her. "I mean, these are the only footprints between here and the car. They _have_ to be his! Come on!"

Without another word, he bounded along the side of the building where the prints led. John and Jessica exchanged confused and worried looks before hurrying after him.

"So Kyle," John said as they began their trek around the edge of the building. "If you don't mind me asking, did you really mean what you said last night?"

"About what?" Kyle asked.

"When you said you felt unworthy of Sam's friendship, that he was probably the one thing that kept you out of jail. Is that true?"

Kyle stopped and turned to him. Although John hadn't previously had any strong connection with Kyle like he had with Sam, he took note of the sudden detectable look of guilt in his eyes.

Kyle scoffed and shook his head, though John was unsure exactly why.

"Well, as far as the jail part is concerned, that might have been just my parents talking. They always liked Sam and talked about him quite a bit whenever my 'questionable' behavior came up. But yes, it is true that I don't really feel like I'm a good friend to him."

"Why?" John asked, curiosity suddenly spiking. It was weird. He always had been the curious type, but he never really thought of himself as being an interrogator of sorts. Still, after a heartbreaking and angering revelation concerning the truth about his best friend and a month of isolation, the sudden appearance of Sam sparked something in him, something he hadn't felt in a long time: hope. He was suddenly gripped by a new sense of injustice, one that came with a glimpse of hope that it may be okay in the end, and he wanted to help make that happen if he could.

Kyle stopped moving. John could tell that he had shut his eyes. He stood there, motionless, not saying a word.

"Kyle?"

Kyle sighed and turned to him. "Let's just say there was an...incident...a few years back." Their interested faces prompted him to continue. He sighed again, more heavily. "I got myself into a pretty bad mess, one that Sam said he wanted no part of, yet in the end, he still came through for me. We both got into a lot of trouble. You've seen how his mom is. I didn't think I'd ever be allowed to see him again, and even when I did he admitted to me that he has no idea sometimes why he's stuck with me all these years. Time passed, and we ended up moving on from the whole thing, and things slowly got back to normal, but what he said really stuck with me since. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to find him. I heard you two talking on the plane, and I agree. I should've said something last night, too, but I didn't. As his friend, I should've been there for him, but I wasn't. This is my fault more than anyone else's. If something happens to him, I'll never forgive myself, not after he was there for me. We have to find him."

When he stopped speaking, he stared at them for a few moments before turning and walking along the side of the building. John turned to Jessica.

"I had no idea," she whispered.

"Neither did I," he said. "We'll find him. He has to be close. There aren't that many other places he could be out here."

She looked unmoved and still clearly nervous and unsure, but as she stared into his eyes, she nodded. She still had doubts about going in there, but she didn't want to argue.

"Sam?" came Kyle's voice from ahead. They both turned to see that he had stopped.

"What is it, Kyle?" Jessica asked as she and John walked up to him. Kyle pointed, and she gasped.

Ahead of them, about twenty feet with his back turned to them was none other than Sam.

"Sam!" Kyle called.

He kept walking as if he didn't hear.

"Sam, it's us! Come on, man!" Kyle said a little more desperate as he took a step forward.

"Sam!" Jessica called.

He stopped walking, continuing to stare ahead of him with his back to them, not moving an inch.

"Sam?" called John.

He finally turned and looked back at them. "Hey guys," he said with a smile.

Jessica made a small noise of bewilderment. John said nothing. Kyle's jaw began moving up and down like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.

"It's alright, guys," Sam said, laughing slightly. "I'm okay. I'm sorry I left like that. I just needed to find Charlie. And guess what? I found her!"

The silence continued among the three of them as they tried their best to register what had just been said.

"You-you did?" Jessica asked, still dumbfounded but with a glimmer of hope in her voice. Was Charlie still alive? And was she really nearby? Would they finally meet up again?

"Yeah!" Sam insisted. "She's inside. Come on. I'll show you." He turned and began walking down the edge of the building again.

None of them moved. Were they seeing correctly? Sam had found Charlie? Could it be? But then again, how convenient of a change of events, and unusual.

Finally, Kyle broke the silence and voiced what they all were thinking.

"That's...weird."

"Yeah," Jessica agreed. "I didn't expect him to actually be here, or to have found Charlie. You think we should follow him? I'm still nervous about this place."

"Might as well," said Kyle, who began walking again without another word. As they reluctantly followed, Jessica turned to John again.

"Is this really happening, John?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Honestly, I have no idea what's happening."

After a few minutes, they rounded another corner to find a vent in the side of the building with the grating removed and lying in the dirt with the same footprints leading inside.

"No!" Jessica said. "This is it. I'm not going in there!"

"Sam's in there!" Kyle insisted.

"I know, but like I said, I've been through enough exploring for a lifetime. Besides, who leaves a vent open like this? I'm done. You can go in, but I think I'd rather wait out here."

Kyle looked at John, who only shook his head.

"Jessica…"

"No! I'm done! You two can go if you want, but I'm staying put!"

John looked back at Kyle, who finally grunted.

"Ok, then." He turned and crawled on his knees inside.

"You sure you'll be okay out here?" John asked. Jessica nodded vigorously. John sighed and followed Kyle inside. He emerged in a small closet, by the looks of it. As he stood up, he was immediately struck by a damp smell. It was more than just a dusty closet. It almost smelled like rotting flesh. Glancing around, he saw boxes stacked on shelves that were filled with old masks and animatronic parts. He walked over to one of them and pulled a mask out. It was a fox mask. Nothing like the face of the actual animatronic, but a younger, more kid-friendly version. It was a mix between hot-red and dark pink with a snout that extended about six inches out.

_These look familiar_, John thought to himself. _They look like…_

He thought back. Where had he seen these before? Could they have Halloween masks? He pondered, studying the light, plastic features of the mask. It did seem familiar, its smooth and once-shiny surface. And then he remembered. His first grade teacher brought in a box of them, telling him and his excited classmates that they had been crafted and donated to the school for Halloween by Charlie's father. He turned to her seating a few seats over, and she beamed at him and puffed out her chest a little in pride as the rest of the class turned to look at her in envy as well. It really paid to be the child of the creator of every child's favorite local restaurant. At least it did at the time.

"Hey!"

John turned to see Kyle standing in the doorway.

"You comin'?"

"Yeah, I was just looking at the-"

"The creepy mask. Yeah, I know. Just put it down and let's keep moving," he said somewhat harshly as he disappeared into the hallway.

_What's his problem?_ John thought as he set the mask down. _Does he not like animatronics?_

He followed Kyle into the hallway. They were standing just inside the front door with a split in directions. One direction appeared to be a hallway while the other led to a small corridor that looked like it held offices.

"Which way, do you reckon?" Kyle asked.

"I have no idea," said John. "He could've gone anywhere."

"You think he really found Charlie?" Kyle turned to him, his eyes reflecting the dimming light coming through the door near them.

John didn't answer but only shook his head. Even after a month of trying to figure it out, it still made no sense. How had Charlie appeared to him? He remembered staring at her absolutely dumbfounded, which made her giggle and him blush. And when she kissed him...she _touched _him. How could someone so real and clearly alive suddenly vanish without a trace the way she did? He wasn't crazy. Even throughout all of his long days of isolation and depression, he'd always countered his hope with reality to avoid his hopes from being dashed, which turned out to be a smart move against Charlie's lookalike. He wasn't crazy. Even after a month, he couldn't shake a strong, inexplicable feeling that Charlie was somehow alive. She was somehow okay. However, what was going on now was a different story. He was no less at a loss than Kyle was.

"Let's go this way," Kyle said, pointing toward the offices. "Maybe he went in there?"

John shrugged and followed Kyle over to one of the doors.

"Locked," said Kyle as he fought with the handle. "What about the other doors?"

John walked over and tried them all with no better luck.

Kyle sighed. "Well, I was hoping I would never have to do this."

Before John could turn to say anything, he heard a loud crash. He turned to see Kyle removed his elbow from the small pane of glass near the door and reach inside.

"You broke in?" John asked, surprised.

"Hey, if this place really is abandoned, no one's gonna care," he said as he unlocked the door from the inside and pulled it open. "Come on. This looks like an office. Maybe we could find something useful like a flashlight in here."

The office was rather small, being about the size of an apartment bedroom, but it was still slightly bigger than the office at Freddy, John figured, even though he was hardly ever in there. On the desk were a few small black panels and along the walls were some filing cabinets There was also a vent in the corner which seemed to be providing a small stream of air from somewhere, probably outside.

"Wow, it's damp in here," said Kyle, walking over to the desk. "Too bad there aren't any windows to open. We could use it." He sat down and started fiddling with the panels. "What are these?"

John walked over to one of the filing cabinets and opened it. It was about half full. He pulled out and opened a file. It looked like a list of supplies for the building. Lights, speakers, machine parts. Typical equipment for a new building of operation. _If this place was ever even used_, John thought, glancing around. Despite showing some signs of age, the building still had a certain look of freshness to it, one that reflected its lack of public visitors. _Seriously, what is this place supposed to be?_

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked.

"Investigating," he said simply, continuing to read the file. "Charlie and I used to do this a lot. We liked to believe we were a research team dedicated to finding answers to certain mysteries." He chuckled. "I remember even as kids, we liked investigating things like why the vent in the kitchen at Freddy's was making a certain noise, or why the underside of the tables smelled like manure, or-" He stopped, glancing at Kyle, who was staring back at him. John realized that he had started rambling. "I'm investigating," he said. "Trying to find out what kind of place this is."

Kyle raised his eyebrows but turned his attention back to the mysterious panels on the desk. _These look like they're supposed to move..._ he thought, trying to claw his finger beneath the panels. ..._but they won't budge._

John replaced the file and pulled out another one. This one contained schematics of some kind. There were drawings and sketches along with notes. John began flipping through the pages.

Finally, Kyle gave up trying to pry the panel out of the desk and slammed his fist down onto the desk. With a loud click, both panels extended themselves up out of the desk a few inches. The lights in the room and hallway right outside also flickered on with a hum. The panels lit up to reveal option menus.

"Whoa. Do you see this?" Kyle asked, turning back to John. But John was apparently so focused on whatever he was reading that he didn't seem to notice anything. Kyle shrugged and turned back to the panels. One of them contained four options: audio reset, video reset, ventilation reset, and reboot all. The other panel contained two options: begin and power down. Kyle pressed the begin option on the screen, which then revealed the entrance hallways where they had just been minutes before. It was a camera system. "Wow," he said, as he began cycling through the cameras via the buttons on the bottom. There was an auditorium-looking room, a closet, other rooms that contained various equipment.

"Dude, this place is really creepy," said Kyle, half intrigued, half scared as he continued cycling through the cameras. "Do you see this?"

John still didn't respond. He continued reading the document he had in his hand. Kyle shrugged, turning back to the monitors once more. _Let him investigate_, he told himself. _It's what he wants to do._

As he continued cycling through the cameras, one image caught his attention. He began messing with some of the levers beneath the buttons. Sure enough, they adjusted the camera. He zoomed in on what looked like an endoskeleton of an animatronic. "What is that?" he whispered, studying it. It appeared to be the lifeless corpse of an animatronic from Freddy's based on the descriptions he heard. But there was no skin or anything. It simply looked like it a shell of something that formerly gave laughter to children, but was now turned off and lifeless. As he examined the skull, trying to determine what kind of animal it might have been, it suddenly jerked its head up and looked straight at him, its eyes glowing a bright yellow. Kyle gasped and leapt away from the desk in the chair, turning away and burying his face in his hands. This is exactly why he _hated_ animatronics! To him, this was all they ever did, scare people. There was never any joy that came from them,

"Are you kidding me?" he heard John say in disbelief. After a few moments, he finally regained his composure and looked back at the monitor, ready to face this creature in a staring match.

But it was gone. Were it had sat only seconds before was now an empty space of tile floor.

"But-" he stammered, pointing a finger at the monitor, absolutely dumbfounded. "But it was- Where did it-? John, did you see-?"

Suddenly, an open folder was dropped onto the desk in front of him. He looked up at John, who met his gaze with determination.

"Read that."

* * *

"Charlie?" Sam called as he entered the next hallway. It was a narrow corridor with not much elbow room. _Great. It's like another closet_, he thought bitterly as he moved slowly down the corridor. A light flickered above him as he pushed himself through. A hanging extension cord that wasn't plugged into anything nudged his bad arm, and despite its light weight, it was enough to remind him of his injuries.

"Charlie?" he called again. "Where are you?"

He stopped moving, listening intently for any sign of life in the dark abandoned corridor. He stood silently waiting for anything to catch his attention, be it Charlie's voice urging him to follow her once more or for the laughing of the animatronic boy. Yet nothing came. The place had suddenly gone silent. Even the dim light above him flickered and died. For a moment, Sam had the fleeting thought that maybe the building had lost power.

_Come to think of it, how does a building way out in the woods even have power at all?_ he thought. _There must be some kind of generator._

He continued standing in silence, not moving a muscle. The density of the darkness was suddenly beginning to overwhelm him. He could hardly make out the silhouette of his hand as he lifted it in front of his face. The only sound to be heard was the faint humming of some machine working as its waves pulsated through the walls and air. Sam grabbed his head. His brain was protesting as the pulses began rocking it in its cradle inside his skull.

A whistling echoed through the hallway. Sam's heart jumped as he turned his toward the direction of the noise ahead. Was someone else in here? Maybe they could help. He continued moving down the hallway as the light began flickering again briefly illuminating the ground in front of him. The whistling seemed to be coming from an upcoming room on the left. As he drew closer to the door, he recognized the tune as the Toreadors march. His mind began racing as he finally reached the door and placed his ear on it. Whoever was on the other side of the door was working on something, by the sound of it. He hesitated. Maybe it was better not to interrupt them. After all, they were out in the middle of nowhere, where people typically didn't want to be found. But still, it was worth a try. He turned the knob, which felt like ice in his grasp, and slowly pushed the door open with a loud creak. The whistling never ceased.

The room was enclosed, most likely a side room, with a small platform which looked eerily like a stage on the far side. There also appeared to be a workshop area in the corner across from the door, where a single light illuminating someone working. Sam slowly approached the figure, whose back was turned as it continued whistling and working.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked shyly. "Do you know where I am?"

The whistling stopped, as did the movement. For a few seconds, the figure was still, then it turned slowly to face him.

Sam nearly screamed, but his sudden shortness of breath prevented him from doing so. Staring back at him was a familiar yet disfigured face. It was a man wearing a green, thin flannel shirt, only it was torn and covered with mud and even what looked like patches of blood. His pants were also torn and dirty. What was most unsettling was the face. Beneath the mess of unkempt brown hair were the most dangerous piercing brown eyes Sam had ever seen, which almost looked red as the clear fury in them revealed itself. Beneath the eyes was a mouth twisted into a scowl.

And then it spoke in a familiar voice:

"Get away."

_Get away? From what?_ Sam thought desperately, taking steps backwards as he held the frightening gaze ahead of him, terrified of turning his back on it. When he bumped into something behind him, he reluctantly shifted his eyes to whatever it was behind him, hopefully, the door. Instead, it was a fox, towering over him and blackened like ash. Before he had the chance to take another step away from the creature, it pounced at him, screaming that horrible metallic sound that sent him to the ground once more.

_He held a quivering hand to his face where he had been struck as he looked up at his father towering over him, and a furious expression on his face._

"_How many times have I told you?" he growled viciously, "Stay away from this and do...not...ever...touch...it."_

_Sam's eyes watered as he looked at the contraption on the desk, a small doll-sized robot with the completed face of a young girl. It looked so friendly and so different from his usual designs._

"_Daddy, I-"_

"_No, I don't want to hear it," his father said, turning his back on him on the ground. "Just leave me alone."_

_Unable to hold it in any longer, Sam got to his feet and raced into his mother's arms, sobbing into her side. While she held him tightly and quieted his tears, she glared at the man before her._

"_Henry…"_

"_Leave me," he told her, closing the door to his work shed. Sam looked from the closed door to his mother, who only looked down at him with tears in her eyes as well._

"_Come on," she told him, pulling him toward the house. "We're leaving for a little bit."_

"_Where are we going?" he asked as he tried to keep up with the force on his arm._

"_To visit your Aunt Jen," she told him as they entered the house._

"_What about Charlie? Is she coming?" He hadn't even seen her in a while._

_His mother gave no answer. She only continued pulling him into his and Charlie's empty bedroom._

"Warning. Ventilation offline."

Sam found himself staring once more at the ceiling with loud alarms blaring throughout the room and flashing red lights flickering on and off. After about fifteen seconds, they stopped, but the computerized voice repeated its warning.

"Warning. Ventilation offline."

Sam pulled himself onto his feet, finding himself even weaker than he already was. Once his vision fully returned, he noticed that the room was empty aside from the stage. The fox, the man, and even the workbench were gone like they were never there to begin with.

"Am I going crazy?" Sam asked himself. "What is this place? It's not like any haunted house I've ever been to."

Unwilling to remain in the room for another moment, he turned and strode towards the door in which he'd entered. As he approached, his hand inches from the handle, he heard the faint footsteps of something big coming down the hallway outside, its breathing thin and raspy. As it drew closer, Sam could hear a low voice say in almost a whisper:

"Where are you?"


	14. The Twist

**A/N:** Hey, three weeks since my last update. It's a new record! This particular chapter is longer and took some extra planning. Enjoy!

* * *

_I wonder what's taking them so long._

Jessica had been standing outside for nearly fifteen minutes, though with all of the thoughts that had been racing through her mind, it felt like so much longer. Why was this building here? Why were Charlie and Sam here to begin with? It made no sense. Nothing about it seemed logical, but then again, a lot of things didn't seem logical anymore. To top it all off, she felt guilty standing on the outside waiting. That wasn't like her. She remembered the day of her reunion with her friends the night before Michael's ceremony when she had most enthusiastically favored taking a look back at their favorite childhood restaurant. That seemed like so long ago now, too. Between Freddy's, the mysterious underground complex beneath Charlie's old house, and Circus Baby's Pizza, her sense of adventure had been notably dampened. Nothing good ever seemed to come from exploration anymore. All it ever seemed to do was cause pain. After all, curiosity killed the cat, or in this case, her best friend.

Still, what if Charlie really was in there somewhere? Was she really going to stand on the outside waiting around while her best friend and brother were inside? Beneath the fear, she was still more worried than ever about both of them.

"Jessica!"

Her eyes widened. It was a faint voice, but it sounded awfully familiar. She looked around, expecting and hoping to see the source of the voice, but she couldn't find anything.

"Jessica!"

"Charlie?" she said. It was definitely her voice, she'd recognize it anywhere, but could it really be her? "Where are you?"

"Down here, silly!"

She glanced down at the open vent leading inside, and to her astonishment, there was Charlie's head peeking out at her.

"Charlie! Is it really you?!"

"Of course it is! Come on inside. The others are waiting for you! We're having a good time!" Her head disappeared.

Jessica couldn't speak, though her mouth was still twitching as though she wanted to say something. Could it be true? Was this actually happening? Why would she hide out here for a month instead of finding her friends? It still didn't make complete sense.

"Come on, Jessica!" came Charlie's playful voice from inside. "Stop being so slow!"

Jessica frowned. "Slow, huh? We'll see about that!" she said as she finally relented and began climbing inside. _So I'm the slow one,_ _huh?_ she thought with a small grin. When they were younger, they would often race at recess, and even though Jessica won more often, Charlie always celebrated her wins with that playful taunt.

Jessica emerged in a small room. The first thing that stuck out to her was the smell, heavy and damp.

"Ugh! This place smells nasty!" she said, covering her nose.

"Better get used to it."

Jessica turned. In the doorway stood Charlie, dressed the exact same as the last time they saw each other.

"Charlie, is that really you?"

"Of course it is!" Charlie laughed. "I already told you. Don't tell me your memory's going along with your sense of smell!"

"What do you mean 'going'?" Jessica retorted playfully. "I always hated bad smells like this."

"And yet you want to be an archaeologist?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jessica said nothing. She had started forming an answer but gave up.

"So what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you mean this place?" Charlie asked with a smile, glancing around. "Didn't I ever tell you? This was another my father built back in the day! I think it was supposed to be another restaurant."

"And the radio tower?" Jessica asked.

Charlie shrugged. "To get the word out? I don't know. All I know is I've felt more comfortable and at home here than I have in years! I feel some much closer to my father than ever!"

"Really?" Jessica asked. "But why here and not Freddy's? Or Fredbear's?"

"Those places are old. I've been there before," said Charlie. "But _this_ place is new. It's like another surprise my dad had to show me! It's so much fun to explore, I just lost myself in it."

"But you couldn't have at least come back to us?" asked Jessica, sadness now creeping into her voice.

"I would've come back to you eventually. And look, you're here now!" She smiled, and Jessica sighed.

"Your father really hid a lot of surprises from you, huh?" she said.

Charlie's face dropped slightly. "You're referring to the fact that I'm not real?"

Jessica nodded slowly. It was their first discussion of this since either of them found out. Jessica was nervous, feeling suddenly faint as she began to anticipate the ugly and devastating facts, like how she was created or what growing up really felt like as something that seemed real but wasn't. Part of Jessica was intrigued, but another part of her didn't want to hear a single word about out of fear that it would ruin their memories together. Charlie, however, only returned her smile.

"Who cares if I'm not real? I'm still here, aren't I?"

Jessica forced a smile, trying to share her friend's optimism. With their quest to find Sam, she'd almost given no thought to meeting back up with Charlie and continuing on with the knowledge of her past. Even now, she still wasn't sure how she felt.

"Well come on!" Charlie said, waving for her to follow. "Let's go exploring!"

"I...I'd rather not," said Jessica flatly.

"Aw, come on! Why not?"

"Because this place is creepy! Charlie, I know you always loved visiting and exploring places, but we've been through enough, haven't we? Honestly, I don't feel comfortable here. I keep feeling like there's something strange about this place. And unfriendly. I don't think we should stay here."

Charlie stuck out her lip in a pouting matter. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You always were _too good_ to get dirty with the rest of us! I guess we'll just have to have fun without you!"

"We?"

"Yes! John and Kyle are waiting for us! John's absolutely thrilled to see me again. And Sammy's here, too! My brother! I never thought I'd see him again! But he's here! He's _here_, Jessica!"

Jessica stood staring at her best friend, completely at a loss for words. It didn't make sense. It was one thing for Charlie to be excited about seeing her brother and wanting to explore something of her father's, but something seemed off about her.

"Well, I'm going to catch up to the boys. See ya!" With a flip of her hair, Charlie turned and disappeared.

"Charlie, wait!" Jessica shouted, starting to follow. As she entered the hallway, something else struck her.

_She seems to have warmed up to Kyle pretty fast. Since when did she start acquainting with new people that quickly?_

* * *

Kyle finished skimming the last page and looked back up at John.

"And...this means _what _exactly?"

John blinked. "Remember those discs we told you about?"

"What, the ones that play with your mind or something? Those voodoo things?"

"They're not voodoo," said John, clearly annoyed.

"Dude, anything that makes you see things is voodoo to me," said Kyle simply.

John sighed. "Fine. The _voodoo_ things. Do you-?"

But he was interrupted as an alarm began blaring inside the office making both of them jump.

"Warning. Ventilation offline," came a computerized voice from the speaker on the ceiling.

John and Kyle looked nervously at one another.

"You think it's a problem?" Kyle asked.

"Typically, ventilation issues aren't that big of a deal, at least if there's some source of air like a window."

"Which there isn't," Kyle pointed out as he turned back to the monitor.

"What are you doing?" asked John, peering curiously over his shoulder.

"Well, while you were having fun reading that file over there, I was checking some of these monitors out. It looks like this one's some type of maintenance panel." He pointed to the one containing the reset options. "Let's try this one." He tapped "ventilation reset." It beeped and a loading bar appeared next to it. After a few seconds, the alarms ceased and the distance sound of ventilation mechanisms could be heard through the walls.

They looked at each other.

"Well...that was interesting," said Kyle. "When I woke up today, I didn't think I'd be putting myself at such an easy risk for suffocating."

"But why is it like that to begin with?" said John, starting to lose himself in thought again.

"Maybe 'cause the building's old and the ventilation system is shot?" Kyle suggested.

"Okay, but make it so easy to fix, along with video and audio errors? It's like…" He trailed off, his eyes widening in realization, staring at the wall. Kyle shifted in his seat nervously.

"What's up? You look like Sam does whenever he's lost in one of his trances."

John said nothing, which only made Kyle more nervous.

"Hey, if you're gonna say this place is alive, I'm outta here. Soon as we find Sam, of course."

"Actually, in a way, it is," said John. "It's like he knew the ventilation would go offline like that a lot. It's like he _created_ it that way."

"Who?"

John turned to him. He opened his mouth to say something when a loud bang echoed from out in the hall causing them both to jump once more.

"You know, I'm already getting tired of this!" said Kyle, getting up. "Seriously, I don't get why Sam would even come here in the first place. He hates haunted houses even more than I do, so-"

"Wait. Sam hates haunted houses?" John asked.

"Yeah! Probably because of...well, you know…" The implication was clear.

"So why would he come here?" thought John aloud.

Kyle shrugged. "Probably to find his sister. That's what he said outside, remember?"

"Why would she come here, though?" John asked. _What's so special about this place?_

"What is that?" said Kyle.

"What's what?"

"That noise!" Kyle put a finger to his lips. John listened. Out in the hallway came the distinct sound of someone or something approaching.

"Dude," said Kyle, placing a hand on his heart. "What if there's someone else here? Like a homeless person or something?"

They both listened as the footsteps grew louder. John moved over and stood next to the door, out of sight while Kyle began looking around the room for something to grab.

As the footsteps approached the door, John and Kyle braced themselves, ready to jump at whoever could be approaching. When a figure rounded the corner, John lunged forward, ready to attack. The figure screamed right as an alarm began blaring in the office once more. As Kyle moved over to reset the ventilation again, the figure, now on the ground in fright, looked up at John with a mixed look of anger and relief.

"What are you doing, John?"

"Sorry, Jessica," said John, helping her to her feet. "I didn't know it was you. What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to wait outside?"

"I followed Charlie in," she said, glancing around the room. "Where is she?"

John looked over at Kyle, who only shrugged.

"You saw Charlie again?" John asked.

Jessica frowned. "You mean...you didn't?"

"No," said John. "We've seen no one since we entered. Are you sure you saw her?"

"Yes!" she insisted. "We talked together! She said her father built this place and you guys were exploring it together!"

John sighed. "I think I know," he said quietly, walking over to the desk and skimming through the file he had given to Kyle. Jessica walked over and peered over his shoulder at the document. After a few minutes, he turned to her, realization evident in his eyes. "I think I know," he said again.

"Know what?" she asked in a small scared voice.

"I think I know what this place is," he said, looking back and forth between her and Kyle. "And I can tell you this, this place definitely isn't one of Charlie's dad's places."

"But she said-"

"The _she_ you're referring to said nothing more than exactly what your mind wanted to hear," said John, "but she wasn't there at all. Neither was Sam."

"What are you talking about?" asked Kyle, his voice suddenly rising. "He has to be here! We've been following his footprints all this time, and we saw him!"

"I'm not sure about the footprints, but what we saw was not him," said John simply. "Seriously, did you not understand what the file says?"

"Not really," said Kyle, folding his arms. "You'll have to forgive me, but psychology was never my strong suit."

John shook his head, turning to Jessica. "Read this."

She looked at him, confused, and grabbed the file laying open on the desk. After a few moments of reading the first page, she looked back up at John.

"What's all this about?"

"Well, first of all, read what's in the bottom corner," said John.

Jessica looked down and gasped. Printed neatly in the corner of the page was the very familiar name and logo: _Afton Robotics LLC._

* * *

Sam's breath quickened as his heart raced, his ear glued to the door as the heavy thuds grew closer outside. What was it? Some kind of intruder? Or worse?

"I know you're here somewhere," the voice growled again, this time a little louder. It was closer. "Come out to play!"

Sam's heart nearly stopped when the footsteps approached the door. He swore he could he the mechanical creaking of the movements of a head-turning. It made him sick. It sounded so rusted and clanky like it was struggling to move at all.

_Do I dare?_ he thought, considering whether or not to peek out at the creature. He was naturally curious, but surely this wasn't anything like what he'd seen so far. This wouldn't jump at him screaming a loud noise and then disappear, this sounded like it was really here. And...was it _breathing_?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" it said again in a low, gravely voice. After a few moments of silence, it turned and started walking away down the corridor it had come from, where he had come from.

Reluctantly, Sam finally pulled open the door as silently as he could and peeked out into the hallway in the direction that it had disappeared, but it was already gone.

_That thing moves fast, whatever it is!_ Sam thought as he began moving further down the hall away from it. _Looks like I'm not going back that way._

At the end of the narrow corridor was another door, almost invisible blending in with the wall. In fact, if it weren't for the small waist-level door handle, it may as well be a wall. Grasping the cold and rusty doorknob, he turned it slowly, fearful that it wouldn't turn.

_Please don't be locked_, he thought. _Don't make me go back that way._

But it turned freely and the door was pushed open with relative ease. He peeked inside, his eyes carefully scanning the room for anything abnormal...or normal for that matter. Any blackened screaming animatronics or working people were now suspect. To his relief, the room was mostly empty. All that he saw were a few boxes stacked somewhat neatly in the corner. There was also a door in the corner. Aside from that, the room was completely empty. Another dim neon light gave the room a faint glow, just strong enough to barely make out the ground in front of him. With careful steps, he walked over to the boxes. The first few contained nothing of interest. More masks and even a few partially assembled robotic parts. He reached into the box and picked one up. It appeared to be an arm, though it looked nothing like the arms of the others he'd seen. This looked more like the robotic form of a human arm as if it came from a doll. He shrugged and replaced it before checking the last box.

This box contained papers. He began quickly scanning them, looking for anything of interest. The ones near the top seemed to be old tax forms and equipment lists. As he dug a little further down, he began noticing architectural plans. He saw one that contained a sketch of the antenna on the roof with curved lines near the top, indicating broadcast. Next to it, the word "inducement."

_What does that mean?_ He put the sketch down and continued searching. After extracting countless more pages on structures and lists of tools. Nothing really stuck out to him until he reached the bottom of the box. It was a picture in a frame, covered with dust. He pulled it out carefully and wiped the dust off the glass with his sleeve.

It was an old photo of a couple. On the right, a tall and somewhat large man stood in a plain black suit. His eyes were kind and with a large smile on his face, his hair combed neatly over to one side. One hand rested at his side while the other was planted on the shoulder of a woman. She was dressed in what looked like a party dress and matching high-heels. She had beautiful shoulder-length hair and she was also smiling widely.

Sam couldn't help but smile. It looked like such a happy scene. He wondered who they were, and why they'd left a picture like this in such a place. Maybe they once owned this building at some point. He looked closer. The man had a familiar look about him. Nothing stuck out to him immediately, but he had an inkling that they had met at some point in the past. Maybe he was an uncle he didn't know about? A friend of Henry's, perhaps?

As Sam began to set the picture down carefully, something fell out from behind it, a small paper that had been wedged into the stand. He picked it up and squinted to read the words.

It was a newspaper clipping. At the top was a picture of none other than the woman from the photo. She was smiling widely in this picture, too. Next to her picture were the printed words: LAURA AFTON. BELOVED WIFE & MOTHER. 1942-1973.

Sam re-read it several times, absolutely aghast.

"Afton?" he said aloud. "As in William Afton?" He shook his head. _Could it be true? Was this really William Afton's wife?_

He picked the picture back up and re-examined it. The man in the photo, Afton, looked so happy, so joyful, so innocent. In fact, judging solely by his appearance, Sam reckoned that William Afton _was_ happy. What had happened?

But like a smack in the face, he remembered what he had just read. _She died._ He picked up the clipping, obviously from an obituary, and began reading.

_Laura Afton (nee Robinson) was born on October 16, 1942 in St. Louis, MO to Jonathon and Rebecca Robinson. She attended the University of Missouri to study architecture but dropped out after meeting her future husband, William. Tragically, Mrs. Afton's pregnancy left her ill and she passed away on November 3, 1973 hours after the premature delivery of her child, who sadly also passed away the following morning due to nutritional deficiencies. Funeral services will be held on November 13. _

Sam put the clipping down, staring absently at the wall ahead of him. William Afton, the same man who had kidnapped and murdered his sister as well as other children, was married? And lost his wife? Sam shook his head and sighed. _That's terrible, _he thought. _Could that have anything to do with his descent into madness?_

A distant yet loud noise echoed through the darkness from behind the door he had come through. Remembering his current plight, Sam slowly began moving toward the other door in the opposite direction. As he made his way to the doors, he tripped over one of the boxes on the ground, which caused the box sitting on top of it to fall to the ground and that parts inside to scatter with a loud crash.

He froze, wordlessly muttering words of hope that he hadn't been heard. The silence continued, and he breathed a sigh of relief, only to be interrupted by the sound of fast approaching heavy footsteps thumping along the ground in the corridor. Panicked, he sprinted to the door and yanked it open, thankful it was unlocked. It was a small closet barely large enough for him to stick out both his elbows. He shut the door as quietly as he could, leaving it open a crack.

As soon as he did, the door to the room in which he had entered suddenly disappeared from view as it was ripped from it hinges with a loud crack. What entered made Sam want to scream, which he might have had he not covered his mouth. This creature was nightmarish demon-looking version of an animatronic rabbit. It was dark yellow, almost green in some places due to the mold. It stood about seven-and-a-half feet with silver glowing eyes and a crooked menacing smile on its face.

"I know you're in here," it said in a loud voice, even more distorted than before. Its mouth never moved.

Sam struggled to contain his breathing, which was growing increasingly louder and more panicked by the second as he watched this monstrous creature begin moving around the room, checking the corners and behind the boxes Sam had been looking at.

_Don't panic_, Sam told himself. _Stay calm. It doesn't know you're in here. _

With that thought, the creature turned its head sharply in his direction. Sam gasped. It smiled (or so it appeared) and began moving its way toward the door. Sam instinctively began backing up further into the small closet until his back hit the wall.

_Don't look in here, _Sam pleaded. _Please don't. Please leave._

The creature continued growing closer, moving slowly as though trying to toy with its prey. Sam sank down to the floor, hoping to make himself less visible in any way. The room was dark enough. When the creature put its skeletal hand upon the doorknob, it froze, its eyes flashing slightly as it held its position. In a split second of deja vu, Sam's mind flashed back to that fateful night at Fredbear's all those years ago when Afton, dressed in an eerily similar rabbit suit, ripped his sister away from him.

"_Hello?"_

The rabbit's ears perked up. Sam held his breath. That noise was new. It sounded like the boy that had jumped scared him earlier. _Oh no. Not again._ He glanced nervously around the small room, but found no one. Not glowing eyes, no silhouettes, nothing. With how cramped the tiny closet was with him in it, it looked like even the tiniest animatronic wouldn't be able to squeeze in.

"_Hi!" _

The voice echoed again, making the rabbit turn its head to the ceiling. Sam realized that the sound was coming from above, probably from a speaker. He held his position, using every bit of effort imaginable to keep perfectly still.

A small laugh from the same boy echoed from further away, likely another room down the hall. With a loud snap, the rabbit turned and took off running in that direction, leaving Sam terrified in the closet. After a few moments, he slowly moved over and opened the door slightly. He could hear the loud stomps echoing down the hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief.

_Wonder what that was all about?_ He glanced up at the ceiling. Sure enough, a speaker saw almost out of sight next to the dim light bulb. While he still had questions, he thanked whatever or whoever it was that distracted that creature. Still, there was a problem. As far as he could tell, this was a dead-end with no way to go other than back the way he and that creature had come from. He scanned the room once more, hoping that he missed something. Maybe there was another vent or a door he hadn't noticed, anything to get him as far away from that thing as possible. He went over and checked behind the stack of boxes, fingers crossed that he missed something back there, only to be disappointed by another wall.

With an angry grunt, he turned back to the center of the room. Before he had a single moment to react, he saw the blackened face of a chicken lunge at him, screaming that piercing metallic screech once more.

_He struggled to drag his suitcase across the ground. Despite its small size, it was much heavier than normal. His mother had made him pack everything important. When he finally made it to the car, he tried lifting it up into the trunk, a futile task for his small arms. After a few moments of grunting, another pair of arms grabbed it from the top._

_ "Here, honey. Let me help."_

_ The tall, dark-haired woman lifted his suitcase effortlessly and placed it into the trunk, then turned back to him with a warm smile on her face._

_ "Thanks, Aunt Jen," he said, smiling back._

_ "You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, reaching down and ruffling his hair. "Do you have everything?"_

_ "I think so. If I don't, I can always get it when I come back," he said._

_ Her smile faded. "Didn't your mother tell you?" she asked in a concerned tone._

_ He shook his head nervously. "No. Tell me what?"_

_ She paused for a moment, her mouth curled into a confused frown and her eyebrows lowered. After a moment, her smile returned. "You'll find out. Your mom will tell you later."_

_ Footsteps approached from behind. He turned to see his mother, eyes still wet. She'd been crying a lot lately for some reason. Was Daddy still mad at them? _

_ She put her own suitcases inside and closed the trunk. She turned to Aunt Jen._

_ "Thank you, Jen, for all your support lately. I'm not sure I'd know what I was doing if it weren't for you."_

_ "You're welcome, Hannah," said Aunt Jen as the two grown women embraced in a hug. "I know it's hard. You've all been through so much pain lately. But right now, it's for the best. Like I said before, Henry's not the same person you fell in love with right now. He needs time."_

_ They pulled apart and Hannah sniffled. "Do you think he'll ever come back to us?" she asked in a weak voice._

_ Jen sighed. "I hope so. I promise I will continue to talk to him and try to make him see sense, but I have no idea how far gone he is. Those hellish codes of his are breaking his mind, changing him into a shell of the lovely man I once knew to be my brother. He won't last much longer like this. I can tell he's close to losing whatever sanity he has left. But I will try, that I promise you."_

_ Hannah nodded and the shared one last hug. "Thanks for everything."_

_ "Not at all," Jen replied as Hannah began walking toward the car. Jen turned back down to Sam, who had been listening to everything, lost in the details._

_ "Well, my dear, this is it," she said._

_ "Aunt Jen," Sam asked in a scared voice. "Will Daddy be okay?"_

_ Jen looked down at him with an expression of hurt he didn't understand. He wanted to help, to make sure everything was okay, to be told that everything would be alright. He didn't like the thought of everyone being sad. And where was Charlie? Had Mommy and Daddy not found her yet? Maybe she was still hiding from the rabbit at the restaurant._

_ "Honey," said Aunt Jen, bending down to his level and stroking his face. "Your Daddy is in a bad spot right now. He needs his alone time. He still loves you, more than you know, but he needs to be by himself for a little while, okay?"_

_ "Will he be okay?" he asked again._

_ She sighed. "I hope so," she said, standing up. "Now, come on. Let's not keep your mother waiting."_

_ She opened the side door and allowed Sam to hop inside. He was amazed that he could finally get into the car by himself. He turned back to Aunt Jen, hoping to voice his excitement to her, but she had already closed the door. After a moment, his mother spoke from the front seat._

_ "Thanks again for everything, Jen."_

_ "Don't worry about it," came Aunt Jen's voice from outside. He couldn't see her. "Just remember...I'll always be there for him."_

_ "What if…" his mother asked in a concerned tone. "What if he somehow...succeeds?"_

_ "I don't know," said Aunt Jen. "All I know is that as hard as he tries, nothing will work in the long run. It's a fact of life. I promise I'll try to bring him back to us. If he does, I'll call you. Where will you go?"_

_ "I don't know," said Hannah. "I've always wanted to live in a big city and try to make something of myself there. Hopefully, I can give us a better life than what we had, but I don't know what'll happen. "_

_ "Will you be traveling far?" came Aunt Jen's voice. Hannah nodded. "I see," said Aunt Jen in a disappointed tone. "Well, promise me that you'll stay close for the next week until the delivery men get the rest of your stuff packed. I'll be here to help them, and I'll keep talking to him. Maybe if he sees that you're really leaving…"_

_ "You think that'll wake him up and he'll see sense?" Hannah asked._

_ "I don't know," said Jen, "but we can certainly hope so. But please, stay close until then. I don't want you to go anywhere far unless you have to."_

_ Hannah nodded. "I will. There are a few motels that might work. I'll give you the number when we get there."_

_ "Take care of that boy, Hannah."_

_ Hannah nodded and started the engine. Sam looked back out his window at the house, the small house that he had called home for the few years of his life so far. He was excited to be going on a trip, as he always was: the big buildings, the lights, the scenery, everything. But he was also looking forward to when they came back and Daddy was better. He could see it clearly. Soon, Aunt Jen would call Mommy and tell her that Daddy was okay, and they'd come back home, his mother singing "We're back in harmony!" in that lovely voice she always denied having, and Daddy would be waiting for them, a smile on his face and arms outstretched, and Charlie would run up to him, safe and sound, and everything would be okay._

_ Aunt Jen suddenly blocked his view as she leaned down and smiled at him through the window. He smiled back and they waved to one another. She kissed her hand and placed them on the glass near his face and then turned and walked away toward her car, a blue Honda that always glistened in the sunlight, though the clouds in the sky today didn't do it justice. _

_ Sam turned back to the house one last time, but something caught his eye. Over by the shed's now-open door, dressed in a pair of thick pants and a plaid work shirt, stood Henry. They locked eyes, though Sam wasn't sure if Henry could actually see him through the glass. They stared at one another for what felt like a long time until Hannah began driving away slowly. As they began moving, Sam watched as Henry turned and walked back inside the shed. Right before the door closed, something else caught Sam's attention. Following Henry into the shed, a hand placed firmly on his shoulder, was a tall, dark figure, its features indistinguishable until it turned and briefly glared over at him across the yard, its eyes white and fierce and its wolf-like mouth twisted into a rotten grin. And then the shed door closed, and they were gone. _

_ The motel room was small, all they needed as they spent most of their time in the room while his mother made phone calls to people about cars and apartments. Sam listened to her as she talked, having no one else to play with and his mother being too occupied to give him much attention (indicated with a firm "Shush!" a few times). He listened to her intently, waiting patiently for some indication of what was going on. She continued talking, and after hours, she'd finally take him out to eat somewhere, letting him order his favorite meal, pizza. _

_ "Did Aunt Jen call yet?" he asked his mother, and she shook her head and told him to eat up._

_ By the end of the week, the phone rang and Hannah answered. Sam almost leaped for joy, certain it was Aunt Jen, but instead, it was from the moving men. They had packed everything. Before he knew what else was going on, they were boarding a plane Aunt Jen and Henry were never heard from again._

"Warning. Ventilation offline."

Sam's eyes fluttered open lazily, his head leaning against the wall. He suddenly felt drained as he struggled to push himself off the wall, his arms quivering from the lack of strength. His head throbbed, and he even felt a faint pulsating feeling in his brain.

_Something is seriously wrong with this place_, he thought, placing a hand weakly on his head. _This isn't normal. Sorry, Charlie, but I can't stay here any longer. I really need to get out of here._

_Of course_, came another voice out of nowhere. _That's what you always do. That's what everyone else as done to her all these years._

Sam stopped and did a double-take, glancing around the room in a panicked fashion. There was no one else there. _What was that? _That voice. It sounded very similar to his own subconscious voice that he'd grown used to arguing with, particularly these last few days, but this felt...different. There was a certain aggressive tone to this voice.

"Who's that?" he said aloud, though trying to avoid attracting too much attention.

While his own inner voice was at least more familiar-sounding, actually using arguments he recognized from his own subconscious, this voice sounded like someone completely different, and it was clear and loud enough in his mind that he could've sworn someone else was in the room with him.

_No one cares about Charlie, _it said again, just as clearly as before. He couldn't help but glance nervously around the room again. Still, no one else was there, yet that voice was so clear.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

_I'm the one following you,_ it said with a small chuckle. _Haven't you seen me?_

"N-no," said Sam nervously, backing up slightly. "No one's been following me."

_You're wrong. I'm here. I've been here the entire time. You can't run from me._

"What do you mean?"

_I'm not something physical, like the robot that's been chasing you. I'm in your head. _

Sam placed a hand to his forehead. _So, you're not real, then?_ he thought.

_Oh, I'm real. I may not be real to others, at least not in the same way, but I'm real to you,_ it said with a laugh.

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

_Nothing that I can't get from you,_ it said with a small snarl. _You see, I want many things, and I almost always get them. What I want from you, you'll find out._

"So what do you want from me now?" Sam asked, trying to sound assertive.

_Now? Nothing. It's about what _you_ want._

Sam stared silently into the empty room, still as confused as ever that he was actually having a conversation with something that he couldn't see.

"And what do I want?" he asked quietly.

_The same thing you've wanted the moment you discovered the truth about Charlie: to find her. She's not dead, Sam. She's here. She's waiting for you. She wants nothing more than to play with her long-lost brother. That is...if he still loves her._

"I _do_ love her!" Sam said aggressively.

_Then why are you giving up on her?_ it chuckled.

"I'm not. At least, I don't want to. This place is just so weird. It's messing with my head."

_Charlie seems to be running around here with no problems. Surely it can't be that bad._

"But I can't go back the way I came. That thing went back there."

It laughed and fell silent. Sam waited, listening for another response but there was none.

_Great,_ he thought. _Last thing I need is another voice following me around everywhere. Where do I go?_

But then he thought back to minutes before during his fearful wait hiding in the closet. At one point, he was sure he felt air behind him. He carefully walked over to the closet and opened the door wide, trying to let as much light in as possible. Sure enough, there was a vent along the back wall. It looked pretty rusted, and to his relief, he was able to pull it off after quite a few tries.

As he got down on his hands and knees, he heard the loud thumping of that animatronic creature in the hallway. It was coming back. Sam began scurrying through the vent as quickly as he could right as the footsteps reached the closet door only feet behind him.

"You can't run," it said menacingly.

* * *

Jessica closed the file and looked up at John, who had been watching her silently the entire time while Kyle had gone back to skimming through the cameras. She blinked.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"It means this place is one big mind trap," said John simply. "You remember what Charlie told us about those illusion discs?"

Jessica nodded.

"The voodoo things," Kyle muttered, still watching the cameras.

"Well," John continued, shooting an annoyed look at Kyle, "it seems Afton's done more experimenting with mind control. That's what these documents are. They're schematics for the building. The antenna on the roof is meant to make people see things."

"Like what?" Kyle asked.

"Like whatever it is they want to see," said John. "In our case, Charlie and Sam."

"How do you know this?" asked Jessica.

"I've been studying their mechanics and functions a lot more. Aunt Jen kept a lot of Henry's old papers on this stuff from when he was...well..._building_ Charlie," replied John grimly. "A lot of the terms and sketches are identical to what's listed in here. Plus," he added, flipping to the back page and pointing near the bottom, "Afton wrote about it right here."

She looked. Sure enough, beneath one of the diagrams on the last page contained a small handwritten list she hadn't noticed before due to her only skimming the content by the time she got this far.

"Isolate." "Induce." "Capture."

"Capture?" Jessica read. "As in...capture _kids_?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," said John. "This is William Afton we're talking about."

"Right. It's what he does," said Kyle, absorbed into scanning the monitor again.

"It's what he _did_," Jessica corrected firmly. "He's gone, now."

"But this house of terror still lives," said John. "Jessica, I think Afton built this place to try and lure kids in here. He uses the antenna to broadcast a signal and lure kids here by tricking them into seeing something pleasant, like a loved one or something they like."

"But when they get here…" Jessica continued, starting to follow his train of thought. "...he would take them."

John nodded. "I think so."

"Well, why build a place like this?" she asked, glancing around the room at the dusty walls and cobwebbed ceiling. "I mean, I don't ever remember hearing about any other kidnappings besides the ones from Freddy's. And that new place."

"Maybe he ended up not needing to," John reckoned. "Maybe he had an easier time simply grabbing kids at Freddy's than he thought."

Jessica winced, and he did too. It still hurt them both to think back to the day Michael was taken from them.

"So that's it?" she asked. "He lured them here to kill them?"

John shook his head. "It can't be that simple. Like you said, why build an entire building just for that? He could've easily done that anywhere else, and he did. I think there's more to this building than what meets the eye." He thought back to the masks he had stumbled across on his way in. "There has to be more going on here."

"Sam?" said Kyle suddenly. John and Jessica both turned to him in surprise. He was staring at the screen.

"Where?" asked Jessica.

"There!" Kyle pointed at the screen. It was a room containing a dim light and boxes in the corner. Standing in front of the boxes was none other than Sam.

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed in surprise. "Is that really him?"

"It has to be!" said Kyle, his adrenaline going through the roof. "Look! He's going through the box! You said yourself that what we saw earlier was only in our minds because we were looking for him, right? Well, hallucinations can't actually touch things, can they?"

John and Jessica both looked at each other. _Could it really be him?_

"Kyle…" said Jessica.

"We've been following his footprints all the way from the car!" Kyle exclaimed, his voice rising to aggression. "Who else can it be?"

Suddenly on the camera, Sam moved and knocked over a box, scattering the contents all over the ground. He stood there, absolutely motionless.

"What's he doing?" Jessica whispered.

Immediately, he took off for a small door in the corner and hurried inside.

"Why's he-?" said Kyle, but suddenly a large figure entered the room. It was tall, almost high enough to reach the ceiling.

"What is that?" Jessica screamed.

"That's what I saw earlier!" Kyle exclaimed, pointing frantically at the screen. "John, that's what I saw earlier!"

John squinted, trying to make out details as the creature began moving around the room.

"John," said Jessica, fear evident in her voice, "doesn't that look like one of those twisted animatronics from last year?"

"The ones from the underground pizzeria?" John asked, and Jessica nodded. He took a closer look. Actually, she was right. To him, this creature looked like one of those awful demonic animatronics that had captured and taken Charlie to Afton's underground pizzeria located beneath her own house. He shivered slightly as he remembered the wolf-looking creature that he and Charlie had discovered buried in that one room beneath her bedroom that ended up being connected to one of the passageways to the underground complex. He remembered Charlie playing with the disc that emitted that nauseating frequency and tricked their minds into seeing an unfamiliar yet friendly-looking creature as opposed to the twisted machine that it actually was. This beast that was on screen for them now, likely hunting Sam, looked eerily similar, snout and eyes both giving off the clear intention of finding its prey.

"I don't know what that is," he said solemnly, "but I don't think it's friendly."

"It looks like a wolf!" Jessica cried. "Doesn't it?"

"What are you guys talking about?" said Kyle. "I don't see anything resembling a wolf."

"Don't you see the snout?" asked Jessica. "And the canine body?"

"No," said Kyle. "All I see is a tangle of robotic parts, just like before. It doesn't look like any animal to me, just the naked skeleton."

"Endoskeleton," John corrected. "You mean, you don't see anything else?"

"No," said Kyle. "But hey, I don't really need to. I always hated animatronics, ever since I was a kid. They were always just machines to me. This just matches up with what I always saw."

John's mind flashed back to the file. He picked it up and began flipping through for something he had read.

"What are you looking for?" Jessica asked.

"I think there was something that talked about this in here somewhere," he said. "I didn't really know what it meant, but Kyle just gave me an idea."

"What?" said Kyle.

"There was something in here about an animatronic," said John, still flipping through the pages. "I think it was-aha!" He slammed the file down on the table. It was the page that contained a rough outline of the animatronic, a simple sketch of the parts and their purposes.

"Yeah, that's it," said Kyle.

"Look at this," said John, pointing at an area near the chest. In the drawing as a disc, very similar-looking to the ones from the twisted animatronics, only this one was bigger and, even in the sketch, appeared to be shaped a little differently. There was an arrow pointing to it stemming from the nearby words "stimulate amygdala."

"Amygdala?" said Jessica. "Isn't that the fear center of our brain?"

"Yeah," said John, his eyes growing wide as he slowly began piecing everything together. "We see what terrifies us."

Jessica looked at him, now completely frightened. "So rather than tricking our minds into seeing something friendly and familiar, this makes us see what we're scared of?"

John nodded. It was all making sense now. He and Jessica were terrified of those twisted animatronics they escaped from while Kyle simply saw the endoskeletons, which was all he needed to see.

"But what does that have to do with anything?" Jessica asked, her voice high. "What purpose does that serve for Afton?"

"I don't know," said John. "It makes sense why he would lure kids here, but frightening them once they were inside is pointless, unless…"

He thought back to their first night of terror at Freddy's as he, Charlie, Jessica, and Carlton stood over a tied Afton, whom they'd briefly known as Dave.

_"The kids you killed are still here. You've imprisoned them!" Carlton managed to sputter in his weakened state._

_ "They are home, with me," said Afton in a coarse voice as the mascot's head slipped forward on his head. "Their happiest day."_

John shook his head. "He couldn't have."

"Couldn't have what?" said Jessica.

"Remember that night at Freddy's?"

"How could I forget?"

"Remember what Afton said about the kids? How they'd attack us because we looked like adults? And how he said that they were with him?"

Jessica nodded with a shudder. "I try not to, but yes, I remember."

"And Carlton. He told us about the kids," John continued, mainly figuring out the story for himself out loud now. "They thought Afton was their friend. That's how he kept them imprisoned for so long. Even then, they were still blinded by Afton's facade. I could be wrong, but I think Afton may have intended to use this place to make it seem like he really was the good guy trying to protect them from the evil."

Jessica stared at him, mouth hanging open, completely at a loss for words. She wanted to call it absurd, to say he was being ridiculous, but deep down, she couldn't deny it. Given all that they knew about William Afton, it seemed to fit his character perfectly.

"If all of that is true," she said quietly, "then we really need to get out of here. I don't want to spend another minute in this horror house!"

John nodded.

"Uh-oh," said Kyle. John and Jessica turned back to the screen. The creature was now moving toward the room Sam had disappeared into.

"John, if your theory about terrifying the kids is right, does that mean that this thing's dangerous?" Jessica asked.

"I don't want to find out," said John. "Kyle, what does that do?"

"What?"

"That option in the corner."

Kyle looked down and saw a small box in the corner of the monitor containing the words "play audio." He reached down and pressed the screen.

_"Hello?"_

A young boy's voice echoed from the speaker on the panel. The creature stopped, absolutely still.

"That seemed to do something," Kyle muttered, pressing it again.

_"Hi!"_

This time, the creature's head turned toward the ceiling.

"Is it working?" Jessica asked.

"I think so," said Kyle hopefully as he pressed the button again, but this time nothing happened. "Huh? What's wrong with this?"

As soon as he spoke, a message in small red letters began to flash on the bottom of the screen. _Audio error._

"Audio error? After only two times?" said Kyle dumbfounded as he turned to the other screen. "We'll see about that." He hit the audio reboot option, and after a few seconds of the loading bar, the error message disappeared.

"Try another room," said John. Kyle switched to another camera in the room down the hall. He hit the audio tab and a laugh echoed from the speaker.

"This better work," said Kyle, holding his breath. After a few moments, the nightmare creature burst into the new room, looking around for the source of the noise. "Wow, it worked! We can actually control this thing!"

"But for how long?" said Jessica, her panic still clear. "What if it finds a way to not be tricked?"

"I don't know, but I'm not waiting around to find out." Kyle pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jessica asked in a high-pitched voice.

Kyle turned back, looking more determined than ever. "To go find my best friend and get him out of this hell." Without another word, he left the room.

"Go with him," said John.

"What?! Are you crazy?! Go out there?! I think not!" Jessica cried, sounding almost as she would laugh sarcastically at the suggestion.

"Jessica, if he comes across that thing alone, it might not end well. You should go with him. Safety in numbers. Unless you want to stay in here by yourself and I go?"

"What do you mean 'stay in here'?"

"If this is our means of controlling this thing's whereabouts, someone needs to stay here to keep it moving in the wrong direction. I'll be fine. I know how to get out. You survived being chased by these things before, but he hasn't. He needs someone to go with him."

Jessica opened her mouth to retaliate but closed it with a heavy breath. He was right again. Despite her fear, she admired his calm and collected nature even in the gravest of circumstances. And it was true. She didn't want to be in this room by herself.

"Alright," she said, straightening herself for the mission. "I'll do it for Kyle and Sam...and Charlie!" She turned toward the door. "Watch our backs!" she called.

"I will. Be careful!" John called after her as he sat down at the desk. "Okay, then. It's time to play!"


	15. A Maze of Hallways

**A/N:** It's long overdue, but here it is! I know it's certainly been a long wait for this one (so much for finishing by the end of the year, right?). With the hecticness of Christmas (always big with my family) not helping, this entire ending has taken much more planning out than I anticipated. I originally wanted this chapter to be the rest of the climax, but it was looking to be so unbelievably long that I recently made the decision to split it up, and even then there was some content-chapter organization that had to be done. At this point, I won't bother predicting my next update, but hopefully, it won't be too long because, as I said, I've already got much of the next chapter written. That said, happy reading and Happy New Year!

* * *

"Kyle!" Jessica called as she caught up to him near the front door. There was less light coming through the window now. It was getting late.

He turned to her. "Yes?"

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You sure?" he asked. "We might run into that thing, you know."

"Look who's talking," she said. "I would've thought you'd be the one to be scared. Between the two of us, I'm the one who's actually dealt with these things before."

"And that's why you've been hesitant about coming here in the first place. With all due respect, what happened to Jessica the fearless leader I've heard about who helped save the kids?"

"They were kids," Jessica argued. "The stakes were different."

"And what about Sam? He's here, somewhere. If this were Charlie, _you_ would've been the one relentlessly trying to find her. But because it's not her, you're suddenly not sure about this rescue mission anymore?"

It was a bold statement, one that might earn him a hit...or at least a verbal outlash. Kyle knew that, and while part of him felt satisfied to say it, he couldn't help but picture Sam's warning face. Jessica said nothing. Judging by the look on her face, she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"I'm sorry," Kyle said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to say it like that. Look, you're right. I am scared. I can't tell you how much I hate having to do this. But I can't leave Sam here. He needs help more than we do. You saw what happened last night. Like I said, that's not like Sam at all. I'm afraid that finding out the truth about his sister has really messed up his mind, even before coming here. Even if that _thing_ really isn't dangerous, which I doubt, I think he's more in danger of himself right now."

"We'll find him," said Jessica assuringly, her tone softening as well. "Don't worry. John's a good lookout. He's got our backs. And I'm sorry, too. I'm just so tired of all this, you know? I just want to move on. But you're right. We can't...not until we find Sam. For his mom...and for you."

Kyle nodded. "And for Charlie." Jessica smiled.

Suddenly the alarms began blaring. Kyle and Jessica both flinched at the sudden noise.

"That's getting really annoying!" she said.

"Tell me about it," said Kyle. "Wonder why it keeps going off like that."

"This building's old," said Jessica. "It's probably malfunctioning. John will take of it."

"I hope so," said Kyle, "cause that's gonna get real irritating soon!"

"It already is," said Jessica, rolling her eyes. "Now where's Sam?"

"The only other way we can go is down this hallway," said Kyle pointing away from the door. A sign hung above them welcoming them.

"Fazbear's Fright?" said Jessica. "It's like he was trying to showcase it as an attraction!"

"Hey, you were the one who said he was insane!" said Kyle. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

John quickly reset the ventilation and began skimming through the cameras. Sure enough, Kyle and Jessica were standing near the entrance. He moved to the next camera, which appeared to be a small room that contained boxes stacked everywhere. It looked like another supply or storage closet of some kind.

Before he had the chance to thoroughly scan the room, Kyle and Jessica entered the room onscreen. They stopped and began looking around, their mouths moving. He wondered what they were saying, but his question was answered when Kyle put a finger to his lips and pointed ahead of them. John switched over to the next camera, or what he hoped was the next camera. The diagram in the corner of the screen was a partial diagram, by the looks of it. It was hard to tell which camera went to which room, exactly. Fortunately, he was proven correct when, in the next room containing three doors, the giant animatronic nightmare was lumbering around slowly.

_It's odd,_ John thought. _For an animatronic, it moves much more fluidly than any of the others. It almost looks like a person._

His heart sank when, as if aware of the intrusive thoughts, the creature stopped and looked up at the camera. John shivered. As Jessica mentioned, it had the appearance of a wolf-like creature. His mind flashed back to those moments when he, Jessica, Charlie, and Clay were running through dark hallways in an attempt to escape from Afton's demonic-looking animatronics that he was so proud of. This definitely seemed to fit that description. It was no doubt another one of his creations simply because it had that off-look about it. Not to mention its face seemed to grow more terrifying by the second.

It stared at the camera, eyes locked with John's. He wondered whether or not the creature knew he was there as its lifeless eyes gazed into John's soul. After what felt like several minutes, it tilted its head slightly, as though curious. John's fingers drummed the desk anxiously, waiting for its next move.

Suddenly, its head snapped away from the camera. Judging by the direction and the diagram, he guessed it was looking at the direction of Kyle and Jessica. His stomach sank when it began moving menacingly slow over to the door. Thinking quick, John pulled up another nearby camera and activated the audio.

"_Hello?"_ The boy's voice echoed through the speaker. Before John could switch back to the previous camera, light flooded the new room as the door disappeared within a fraction of a second and the tall creature burst in, glancing around aggressively for the source of the noise. After a few moments, it stopped and turned back the way it came. John switched back to the previous camera and saw the figure standing in front of the three doors. It had gone through the one on the left, from the looks of it. John quickly switched to the room leading from the middle door. It was a slightly larger room with arcade games. He activated the noise, and the beast appeared seconds later. After taking another look around, it wandered through another door offscreen.

_Exactly how aggressive is this thing?_ he wondered. Remembering Kyle and Jessica, he switched back to the monitor of the room they were in. They had moved forward closer to the door leading to the room with three doors. Kyle turned to the camera and gave a thumbs-up as they passed through.

_So far, so good. _John switched back to the room with three doors. He saw Jessica throw up her arms and say something that he couldn't hear. Kyle silenced her by holding up his hand and began scanning the doors, obviously trying to pick which one to take. John quickly scanned the nearby cameras. The rooms nearby all appeared to be empty. _Where did it go?_

"John?"

John froze. A very familiar voice came from the door. He turned his head slowly. Standing in the doorway, hand on the frame, was Charlie...or so he thought.

"Charlie?"

She smiled and nodded. He opened his mouth, but closed it and frowned.

"You're not real," he said, turning back to the screen.

"Of course I'm real, John!" she said, flustered. "I told you before. I'm real, John!"

He sighed and looked back at her, examining her details. If he was seeing correctly, it definitely looked like her and not Elizabeth. Her face, her mouth, her nose, her brown eyes, her hair. She was even wearing the exact same clothing she was last time he saw her in the cemetery, assuming that was indeed her. As he silently studied her, her smile dropped.

"You don't believe me?" she asked in that voice she always used when she was concerned or frustrated. John's mouth quivered.

"I...I'm not sure. I...don't really know what to believe anymore."

"Because I'm supposed to be dead? Because I was never actually real?"

"Well…" John pondered his answer for a moment. Once again, thoughts flooded back to him about the past month. Those feelings of helplessness, of anger, of betrayal. He remembered watching _his_ Charlie's robotic remains burn away as though, like drinking endless shots of whiskey, it would help kill the pain. Instead, it only brought more tears to his eyes as he stood staring at the lifeless mechanical body that had once been his best friend and childhood crush. He remembered driving away ready to face the world, a world that seemed to hate him, and he hated it in return. Life wasn't fair. Everyone had lost something, and his loss was dear to him, and it was all because of the sadistic will of one man beginning some fifteen years ago.

"John?" Charlie was still staring at him, her concern even more evident.

John shook his head. "I just don't know, Charlie. I have no idea how you've even been alive but dead all of these years, so sophisticatedly alive but fake and no one knew, how you could possibly still be alive now after everything."

"Maybe if you hadn't burned my corpse, I could have still been alive," she said bitterly.

That struck a nerve. He glanced down at the floor miserably. How much more impactful it was given that he just had that thought. It was as if she was reading his mind. _Unless..._he thought. _Unless she is a part of my mind._

When he looked up, Charlie was gone. He shook his head violently and turned back to the screen. _Focus, John_, he thought assertively. _Don't let this place get in your head._

As he began searching the rooms ahead of Kyle and Jessica, a noise from outside caught his attention. He turned to the door, frozen, as a shuffling sound echoed from the other side of the wall. After a few seconds, a dark figure shuffled its way into view outside the small window just above the monitors. It was too dark to see what it was, but as it shuffled its way closer to the window, John could make out a large jaw and teeth with the shape of a bowtie underneath and even a small hat on its head.

"F-Freddy?" he mumbled.

As soon as its name slipped from his lips, the figured disappeared below the window pane. John moved to push himself up but was interrupted by the ghostly black face and glowing eyes of Freddy Fazbear as it suddenly leaped into his face screaming a horrible noise that cannoned against his eardrums.

_He stood in a concrete room, the same one where he and Charlie had discovered one of Afton's twisted animatronics. Behind him, Jessica and Clay were waiting for them. Ahead of him, Charlie stood staring at a wall which she had just discovered was a door. His heart began to sink as he questioned what she was thinking. He moved forward and grabbed her, turning her to face him._

"_Charlie! Look at me. I'm not leaving you here."_

"_I have to stay," was all she said._

_His heart sank further. He might have cried had he not felt so desperate._

"_No, you have to come with us! You have to come with me."_

"_No, I…" Charlie protested, her eyes starting to wander back to the door. _

_And then, with no forethought, he felt it slip from his lips._

"_I love you."_

_She turned her gaze back to him and locked eye contact. He could've gone on, but instead, adrenaline still pumping, he told her she was coming with him, and she agreed. They turned to climb out of the room, his heart beating faster every minute. He was going to get her out. He would see to it no matter what, and it nearly paralyzed him with fear when he felt her hand slip from his and he heard her scream as the twisted animatronic tailing them finally caught up to her._

"Warning. Ventilation offline."

John rolled his head forward. Somehow he had stayed in the desk chair, though he had slid himself across the room. His neck ached severely from being painfully laid over the back of the chair. He moved back over to the desk and quickly reset the ventilation once more.

When he looked at the screen, he noticed it was all static. In the corner a new error message: "Video error." He hit the video reset button, but nothing happened. He glanced back and forth between the two monitors, but no change occurred.

"What?!" he said in a panic, hitting the reset button again. This time, another error message appeared on the screen.

ERROR: RESET FUNCTIONS NOT RESPONDING. CHECK CONNECTION AND TRY AGAIN.

John shook his head in bewilderment. _Well, this is just great! What am I gonna do now? _He checked beneath the desk. No loose wires. No wires at all, for that matter. Confused, he rechecked the monitors for any signs of troubleshooting options. In the corner of the video monitor was what looked like the icon of a folder.

"Maybe…" he said, tapping it. It opened into an assortment of options. He quickly began scrolling down the list. Audio files, video files, troubleshooting. John skimmed the troubleshooting options. Frequency, temperature, connections. He clicked the connection option and attempted to reboot the system. After about fifteen seconds of loading, a message appeared on screen in bright red letters:

"UNABLE TO RE-CONNECT AT THIS TIME. SOURCE NOT FOUND. TRY REBOOTING SYSTEM. IF PROBLEM PERSISTS, CHECK INDIVIDUAL CONNECTIONS MANUALLY."

John let out a groan of frustration. Kyle and Jessica, wherever they were at this point, were depending on him to keep their pursuer away from them and he was already letting them down due to technical difficulties.

He looked up at the camera in the corner. It was an average camera, looking no different than a standard security camera. He examined it closer. There was a wire running from the base and into the wall. Could one of those have been loose?

_That wouldn't explain the multi-system failure_, he reminded himself miserably. _Nothing's working, not just the cameras._

He was about to turn away when he noticed something odd. There was a flashing red light next to the camera's lens. With how much of a fuss his mother always made about capturing every important moment of his life onto video, one thought came to his mind.

_Am I being recorded?_

He turned back to the monitor with the options and selected the video files. There was a list of featured files that appeared onscreen, the top of which had today's date with the word LIVE written next to it. He tapped the screen and a view of the office filled the screen with him sitting in the chair exactly as he was. He turned to the camera. The light continued to flash. He raised a hand and turned back to the screen. His hand was raised on-screen now as well.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked himself. _How long has this been recording?_

He noticed a progress bar on the bottom of the screen. He skimmed it back to the beginning. The screen went black with the message MOVEMENT DETECTED in light red letters. Suddenly, the screen lit up. The office was empty. The screens were exactly where they had been before: nestled into their compartments. The sound of movement echoed from outside. He saw a shadow through the window out in the hallway. A loud crash came from the room, causing him to jump. Unlike the live views from the other cameras, this one had sound. An arm came through the window and unlocked the door on the inside. The door opened and in came none other than himself and Kyle.

"Wow, it's damp in here," said Kyle on the video.

John hit the pause button and looked back up at the security camera. _Why does this one record?_ He racked his brain. It didn't make sense. It was a psychotic building meant to mentally torment his victims into losing their minds. Why would Afton care about recording himself?

_Experimenting,_ he thought. _Afton had been working on something. Jessica and Carlton said he'd been working on something. Jessica had tried her best to explain how he had been trying to transfer himself into an animatronic as if that could somehow make him more powerful and live forever, or something like that. But why kids? Wanting to avoid death is one thing, but the kidnappings and killings? What was he trying to accomplish? Why was he so miserable? What made him want to go after kids to do this? Unless… _His eyes widened. _What if this was part of his experiment? To study the reactions and behavior of children for future use?_ He shook his head in disbelief. _He wanted to know how children would react to him. This is how he lured them all away, including Michael._

He skimmed the list of videos quickly. They were all labeled by their date and time, all recorded upon presumably upon sensing movement in the office. Most were from years ago, as expected, though he noticed the second most-recent, listed directly beneath the video from today, was dated only a few months ago. His heart jolted in his chest.

_Was someone else here?_

After a few moments of pondering, he started the video.

* * *

"Through here," said Kyle.

They entered the next room right off the front hallway, which contained stacks of boxes, some of which looked like they had been searched through recently.

"Well, looks like Sam was definitely here," said Kyle. "This place is a real mess! And I thought our apartment was bad!"

"What could he have even been looking for?" asked Jessica, walking over and peeking into one of the boxes. "This is mostly just scraps."

"Beats me. I have a hard time understanding his train of thought on normal days sometimes."

"He had to have been looking for something, though," Jessica argued. "This can't be the work of-"

"Shh!" said Kyle suddenly, putting a finger to his lips. "Do you hear that?" He pointed at the door ahead of them. Jessica listened closely.

"No, I don't-" But then it became clear. The faint sound of thudding in the distance, the sound of something heavy coming toward them. She looked at him, eyes full of panic.

"Come on," he said, leading her over to the door to listen.

They slowly approached the door to the next room, keeping their breathing under control as best they could as though that would give them away, which it just might. Kyle put his ear to the door while Jessica watched him.

"What do you hear?"

Kyle said nothing.

"What is it?"

"Shh!" said Kyle in a hushed voice, taking note of the annoyed look on her face. "Sorry, but I think I can hear a thudding noise."

She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the sudden sound of a bang. They both jumped. Jessica let out a small shriek. Kyle put his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet! It might hear us!"

She said something unintelligible and muffled. Another heavy thud echoed from behind the door. This one sounded closer...much closer. Jessica's breathing became intense as she began to hyperventilate. Despite his own fear, Kyle couldn't help but groan.

_How is that I'm scared enough of these things when they're not hunting me and yet I'm the one keeping myself together here?_

He glanced around the room nervously, desperate for anything that could be used as a weapon. Unfortunately, boxes of old papers didn't sound promising.

_Unless I wanted to bore it to death with schematics_, thought Kyle as he glanced up at the security camera in the corner of the room, noticeable only by the reflecting light on the lens. _Come on, John. Don't let us down, here._

As if in direct answer, he heard the faint voice of the kid echo from a few rooms over.

"_Hello?_"

With no time to fully register the saving grace, they heard loud thudding footsteps immediately pounding away over in that direction. Kyle let out a sigh of relief and looked at Jessica, whose face was contorted slightly in agony. He realized his hand was still over her mouth and he had been increasing his pressure.

"Sorry!" he cried, removing it. "Didn't mean to suffocate you. Kind of panicked, too, you know?"

"It's not that," she said, annoyed. "Your hand smells like dirty feet, and I should know!"

"Well, sorry for doing some crawling around on the ground. Can't imagine you'd smell any better."

There was a loud crack from a few rooms over. They both jumped again.

"What is it doing in there?" Jessica cried.

"Beats me," said Kyle. "Not literally, though," he added in a small attempt to lighten the tension. Jessica said nothing.

After a few more seconds, the footsteps returned to the room ahead of them. Both held their breath as they waited for the next signal from John, which came moments later. Jessica let out a sigh of relief and Kyle turned to the camera and gave a thumbs-up.

"Come on," said Kyle. "Let's go."

He stood up and offered a hand, which she took. As she got to her feet, her arm brushed against his side and she felt something against his hip.

"What is that?" she asked.

"What?"

She pointed to his hip.

"Flare gun," he said.

"Where did you get a flare gun?" she asked.

"The plane. My dad told me that if you ever land in the middle of nowhere, always take it with you in case you need to signal your position. It's kind of old, but it looks to be in good shape and it's got two flares in it."

She said nothing, not knowing what to say, but nodded.

They slowly opened the door and entered the next room warily. There were three doors, each branching in a different direction. They heard the thumping of the creature in the distance.

"Which way did it go?" Kyle asked.

"No idea," said Jessica, "though I'm guessing it wasn't the door on the right."

She was right. The other two doors were wide open and slightly bent, indicating that they had been forced open by something. The door on the right was still shut and in place.

"How do you feel about splitting up?" said Kyle.

"Against it," said Jessica immediately.

"Same. I wish we had some kind of light source. These lights aren't doing much!"

"I know. I didn't see Charlie's flashlight in her car. Sam must've taken it."

"Which way do you reckon?"

"Well, since it obviously hasn't gone right, yet…"

"Yeah. I agree. Hopefully, Sam's not down one of those other two corridors."

They approached the door on the right. They noticed the doorknob was rusty. Jessica used her sleeve to turn it.

"Is it that dirty?" Kyle asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't want to know," she told him.

"Hello?" a voice broke the tension. They turned their heads and saw no one. They flinched once more as the alarm suddenly began blaring even louder than before.

"Warning. Ventilation offline."

"What happened?" Jessica shouted over the voice, hands covering her ears.

"No idea!" Kyle shouted back. "Did that voice sound familiar?"

"What?" she cried back.

"Did that voice sound different?"

"I can't-!"

Suddenly the alarm stopped.

"About time, John," she said.

"But that voice! It didn't sound like a robotic or a child's voice. It sounded like-"

"Sammy!" said Jessica, eyes wide with realization.

"Kyle? Jessica?" the voice came again through the dim light. "Is that you?"

"Where are you, dude?" Kyle asked.

"In here!" came Sam's voice. "I'm hiding from that thing!"

"This way!" Kyle led Jessica through the middle door into a room with arcade games.

"In here," came his voice again from the next room. Kyle made to follow but Jessica grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

He looked at her like she'd gone insane. "What?"

"How do we know it's really him?"

"He just-"

"This place messes with your head. I came here in the first place because I thought I saw Charlie. How do we know it's really him?"

"How do we know it's not? We're here to find him. What if it is him but we _don't_ go help him? It seems kind of counterproductive, don't you think?"

"He's smart. If it was him, wouldn't he have come out of hiding by now? Sounds like that thing left the area. Why would he still be hiding from us?"

Kyle said nothing. That was actually a good point. When they played hide-and-seek as kids, they would try and coerce each other into coming out prematurely. When they got older, it became laser tag, which Sam excelled at much more than he did. Sam always moved from cover to cover seamlessly while Kyle seemed to get shot either way. But this was different. This wasn't a friendly game of hide-and-seek or laser tag. This was a game of get-out-or-die. He knew that Sam wouldn't want to risk staying in any area too long with danger around. He was always the brave one taking the chance and knowing just the right moments to hide and move. It was one of the ways Kyle had always looked up to him.

"Kyle, look!" Jessica pointed.

On the floor, near the doorway, was a large cylindrical object. Kyle reached down and picked it up.

"That's Charlie's flashlight!" exclaimed Jessica. "Sam must've dropped it."

"So he did come through this way," said Kyle. "That means-"

"_I hear you."_

They froze. Jessica cupped a hand to her mouth. Kyle glanced at her nervously.

"Is that-?"

"_There you are!" _

Jessica screamed. Kyle turned to find himself staring at a large shadow in the doorway.

"RUN!" she cried, pulling at his hand to signal him out. Kyle turned to follow but lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thud. Before he could move, he felt weight suddenly press itself down on his back.

"_You can't run from me!"_

"NO!" Kyle cried desperately as he tried squirming away. It was too strong. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Flailing around wildly, his hand found the flashlight and tossed it behind him in a blind panic at the creature. He heard a clunk and the weight let up as he heard the sound of mechanisms whirring. Taking his chance, Kyle forced the mechanical hand off of his back and got to his feet running back to the room with three doors. Jessica was nowhere to be seen.

"Jessica?" he called out. "Where are you?"

He heard the familiar heavy thudding behind him. It was running. Without a second thought, he took off for the room on his right. He was immediately greeted by a psychotic clown face hanging down from the ceiling in front of the door. Kyle quickly brushed past it and toward the door. The room was crowded with more parts, some of which were partially assembled into torsos and limbs. He didn't have time to investigate. He kept running forward past all of the hanging arms that felt like they were grabbing him as he ran by.

"Get off of me!" he cried, tears beginning to fall from his eyes as he pushed a large arm away from his chest. "Get away!"

He finally reached the door only to discover to his sheer horror that it was blocked by a shelf that had fallen over. He tried squeezing past it, but the space was too small.

He heard a heavy thud behind him. He slowly turned to see the large animatronic endoskeleton towering over him, staring at him blankly with large, bright eyes.

"_I found you!"_

* * *

Sam crawled through the vent the best he could despite his limited movement. Now that he was on his hands and knees, his arm was really starting to hurt. The pain was becoming more intense with each movement. He'd been so focused on trying to find Charlie in this house of terror that he had completely forgotten about the injury he'd sustained from crashing Charlie's car earlier.

_It feels like so long ago now_, he thought as he began nearing the light at the other end of the vent. As the pain continued, he stopped for a moment, clutching his arm. He glanced back nervously. The monstrous creature wasn't there anymore. _But what was that other voice? Who was it talking to me in my head?_ He shook his head. _Maybe it's the building. Maybe these jumpscares are getting to me._

Out of nowhere, there was another dark laugh, the same one from before. Sam glanced back and forth, terror rising within him now.

_I'm sorry, Charlie,_ he thought as he began crawling forward again._ I really am, but I need to get outta here. I can't stay here anymore. I'm so sorry I've failed you._ He felt tears coming from his eyes as he continued forward.

He emerged in what looked like another hallway. To the right was a door that was chained with a large padlock. To the left, the hallway curved out of sight. Sam struggled to his knees as best as he could. His arm protested again with sharper pain.

"Why am I here?" he said.

_To find Charlie. Isn't it obvious?_ came that dark voice again. Sam shook his head fearfully and staggered to his feet. He approached the corner and turned back, dreading to see something there. But there was nothing. With his good arm, he smacked himself in his forehead a few times.

_What is wrong with me?!_ He turned and rounded the corner only to find, to his great disappointment, that this hallway ended as well. He found himself staring at another door locked with a chain and padlock. _What, was this an employees-only area or something?_

From a distance, he heard banging echoing down a hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. _At least that thing's away from me, now, and it's not like anyone else is in here._

His heart, still beating rapidly from his adrenaline rush, wouldn't slow down. His vision had begun to fade slightly. His entire body was now crying out.

"I can't stop," he told himself. "I have to get out of here. But how?"

Feeling more fatigued by the minute, he leaned back and rested himself against the wall, still breathing heavily. His vision was beginning to tunnel more intensely.

_Is this it? Is this how I die? In some old building in the middle of nowhere? If only I had some more air. _

_Air._ He glanced up at the ceiling. There was a vent directly above him with a metal grate in the center.

_That's it! That's my way outta here!_ Sam thought excitedly.

He moved to push himself forward, part of the wall behind his left hand sunk inward and he found himself falling backward, landing hard on the ground. Before he could fully register what had happened, the opening slid closed behind him and the light from the hallway to gather himself and grunting in pain, he slowly got to his feet. In the dim light, he could vaguely make out a mechanism on the wall he had accidentally come through. There was a pulley system, gears, and a handle. He tried to pull the handle, but it wouldn't budge. It looked and felt too rusty to move.

_Great. Now I'm stuck in the weird room the secret door in the wall led me into. _With a groan, he turned to the rest of the room.

The room was dark. He could see the silhouettes of objects placed here and there, but he couldn't make out anything. What he could feel, however, was the strong pulsing sensation in his brain that he had been feeling since he'd arrived, only now it was significantly intensified. His brain began to ache badly. He put a hand to his head as he fought the urge to vomit. His stomach felt close to the point of no return. Using as much energy as he could muster, he continued forward.

As he took a few steps closer, there was a loud crack followed by a whirring sound. Bright lights of several colors flickered on all around the room and illuminated his surroundings.

It was a dining room. Booths and tables were scattered around the room and along the walls. The floor was made of fresh, sturdy wood. Near the end of the room was a slightly-elevated stage. On it was two dancing animatronic figures, a golden bear and a golden rabbit. He recognized a familiar carnival tune. His mind went numb as he slowly made his way to the stage, legs getting weaker with every step.

As he approached the stage, the two animatronics looked down at him but did not stop their performance. If anything, they appeared to love the new company. In the midst of is other rising emotions, he couldn't help but smile. It was home, the place he had come to call his second home those short first few years of his life. As he studied the dancing animatronics, he realized that they weren't moving mechanically. They were dancing like people. He studied the bear and, for the faintest moment, he could've sworn he saw his father's eyes behind the mask head.

"D-Daddy?"

The bear stopped dancing and looked at him. It was hard to tell, but he could feel a smile from behind the mask.

"_Son."_

His heart sank in his chest when he turned to the rabbit and saw that it had stopped moving, though the feel from it wasn't anywhere near as pleasant. He glanced nervously at the eyes, and to his horror, they were bloodshot and angry, staring him down, completely dead and void of life or happiness. It reached up at hand toward him.

_He stared at him for a long moment. He reached for him until his sister screamed in protest. Before he knew it, they were both gone._

"NO!" Sam cried, burying his face in his hands and nearly falling backward. His breathing was rampant. He tried to remember where he was, what he was doing, but all he could see in his mind was the closet.

_It's a memory, Sam,_ he thought desperately. _Just a memory. Nothing more._

Finally regaining his composure, he glanced back up at the stage nervously. To his relief, the rabbit was now gone, but so was the bear as well. He could still see the booths and tables in his peripheral vision, but the animatronics and carnival music were now gone and the lights were dimmed. It was like they were closed for the evening.

_Look familiar?_

His eyes widened. It was back, that voice that had been haunting him.

_Don't tell me you don't recognize this place. It's your favorite place in the whole wide world! Or...at least it was. Seems this place still believes it to be your favorite memory. Do I detect a hint of nostalgia?_

"Leave me alone," he managed to say.

Another laugh. _Leave you alone where? I couldn't leave you even if _I_ wanted to._

"I don't care. Just leave me alone."

_Is that any way to talk to your subconscious?_

"My subconscious isn't you."

_But I can influence it, the same way I have been from the beginning._

Sam said nothing. The voice was stronger now as if it had gained power. His breathing quickened as he realized he was now having a full conversation with something he couldn't see. He remembered Eric once telling him during a video game battle that the best way to turn the tables on the opponent is to even the odds, no matter what it takes.

_Granted,_ it said, reading his thoughts. _Turn around._

His eyes widened in fear. He slowly turned, fear pulsing through his veins.

Standing in the center of the room about six feet in front of him, tall and bulky, was the black figure he'd been seeing. He cringed. He had only glimpsed it in the visions he'd been having, but seeing it in the flesh, or whatever it was, was downright terrifying. Its previously-silhouetted figure was now revealed to have dark, matted fur like a wild wolf's. Speaking of the wolf, its long snout looked even more menacing in the low light. Its pointed crooked teeth protruded from its mouth like daggers. Despite its wolf-like face, its feet and hands contained long claws. Its eyes, brighter than ever before, stared back at him without blinking.

"What are you?" he asked.

_I told you. I'm part of you, the part that always gets what it wants,_ it said without moving its mouth, which curled up into a smile.

"I still don't understand."

_You still don't understand what?_

"What you are?"

_I am whatever you want me to be, or don't. I can go either way._

"And what do you want?"

_I want you, and I will take you._

"Like hell you will," Sam said, taking a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

_You don't listen well, do you? I'm part of you, young fool. You can't escape from me no matter where you run._

"If you're part of me, why are you against me?"

_Because being part of you is how I take control. When I'm in your mind, I can do anything. I can appear as anything, show up whenever I want, even feed my emotions and desires into you._

"So what, you _possess_ me?" Sam asked, absolutely bewildered.

It smiled, or so it appeared to. With its beastly mouth, it was hard to tell.

_Why would I have to? I may be there at every moment, but I'm still part of you, which means you can't escape from me._

Sam took a step back.

"Is this what you've always looked like?"

_Oh no. I can take whatever shape I want. Whatever I feel you need to see at the moment._

"Why a wolf?"

_Because that's what your imagination thinks it should be seeing after hearing the stories. I can take whatever shape I want to. For instance…_ With a blur, it dissolved into a black mass. After a few seconds, it reappeared as a bear, a familiar bear. But this was different than the bear he knew. It was burned black with a yellow bowtie and hat, piercing white eyes with red irises, and an even more deranged mouth. Sam shook his head.

"You're not Fredbear."

_You're right_, it chuckled. _Fredbear would be too pleasant a sight for you right now._

"Who are you?" asked Sam. "If you're a part of everyone, what do people call you, then?"

_I go by many names. It depends entirely on what the person wants to call me. What do I look like to you?_

"A nightmare," said Sam.

_Then, so be it. To you, I am Nightmare._

"I still don't get it," said Sam. "If you're part of me, why now? Why here?"

_Why not now? Why not here?_

Sam took another step back, growing more unnerved by Nightmare's appearance and answers by the second. His helplessness was reaching its peak. "Just...leave me alone."

_Why would I do that when I'm so close to having you?_

"What do you mean?"

Nightmare smiled again._ Do you remember last night?_

* * *

John's breathing slowed to a crawl as the video began.

On the screen was the office, almost exactly as it appeared now. Obviously, this wasn't too long ago. After a few seconds, the door opened and a pair of people. One was a very frail-looking man in a wheelchair. Recognizing the face, one name came to John's mind. _William Afton._

Jessica and Carlton were right: Afton couldn't have looked worse. Wheelchair-bound, bags under his one remaining eye, face more sulky than ever, more scars than ever before, and even a small piece of metal protruding from his head. _Well done, Charlie,_ he thought with pride, remembering how she activated the spring locks in his suit that had supposedly killed him. Speaking of Charlie, pushing the wheelchair behind Afton was none other than the beautiful version of her that John recognized immediately as the doppelganger, that sweet-talking imposter who nearly lulled everyone, including him, into her trap. He felt his face flush in anger just seeing her again on the screen.

"What are we doing here, again?" not-Charlie asked as she pushed the fragile man up to the desk. Even with the grainy audio, it was obvious that she wasn't thrilled to be here.

"I told you, I need some parts for the restaurant," said Afton. "I know I kept some extras here."

"Isn't there anywhere else we could go instead?" not-Charlie protested. "I don't want to run the risk of anyone following us out here."

"Who would find and follow us all the way out here?" Afton replied. "That is exactly why I had this place built here, complete with solar-powered energy and discreet from all public radio broadcasts. It was never built to be found by any random prying eyes, only those I brought here. I assure you, Elizabeth, no one else has ever been here before. No one else has ever set foot in here even after all these years. Even time itself seems to have forgotten it, judging by the unsightly mildew." He frowned and turned to Charlie's imposter. "In fact, why are you still in disguise?"

It was hard to tell from the camera, but John was certain he saw not-Charlie's mouth curl and eyebrows lower in hesitation. After a few seconds, the video signal was interrupted very briefly. When it cleared, standing in her place was the robot he and his Charlie had encountered that day at her Aunt Jen's. She looked generally the same as when he had seen her in person, shiny body and glistening face, only not as dirty. _Must be before she started terrorizing everyone,_ John thought.

"I still don't see why we need to be here," she said, still sounding very reluctant as she watched Afton turn back to the desk and start checking the panels. "Anything we need, we can get from your old pizzeria."

"No, we can't," said Afton. "It's gone, burned and destroyed during my last little _adventure_ with your counterpart and her friends," he added in a mocking tone, his fists clenching. "But no matter. Fortunately, I kept spare parts of everything here. Now stop worrying and help me, Elizabeth. This won't take long."

She slowly approached the desk, her movements a bit rough and robotic. Perhaps she was still adjusting to the different feelings of her body. As she approached, a figure appeared in the corner. Despite the grainy video quality, it appeared to be a small, black robotic child wearing a small hat and grinning widely.

"_Hi!"_ it said.

The voice was familiar, and so was the appearance. John was certain he'd seen these before.

_They look like those robot kids in Afton's pizzeria under Charlie's house,_ he thought.

Suddenly, on the screen, the figure opened its mouth and let out an ear-piercingly loud screech. With a flash of light, it was gone.

"What exactly are those?" Elizabeth asked, twitching slightly as she recovered from the noise.

"Memory and fear stimulants," said Afton. "They were meant to help accomplish my goal of scaring the children into seeing me as their savior from the fresh hell they go through in this place. Each time one is activated, they induce the victim with a trip back down memory lane, a rather unpleasant trip, for that matter. I even managed to add a stimulus that messes with their mind and helps enhance their mental nightmare with other fear factors, so it's like they're reliving their worst or most painful memories with other elements sometimes added in, like whatever they're afraid of most." He turned to Elizabeth, a large, proud smile on his face of his work, which faltered slightly. "Unfortunately, there was one gag. I was never able to maintain such power and effects within a normal electrical output. Every time it happens, it screws up the ventilation system, which must be manually reset. But no matter." He turned back to his desk. "The past is the past, and so is this place. It's a pity. All that time and energy and I only ever used it on one test subject, and I'm sure you know whom I'm referring to."

"Yes," said Elizabeth. "It's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Good girl," said Afton. "I considered using this place again, but I can't. I don't want to risk another...incident. Now, head out into the rooms and collect those parts I told you about. I want to make sure our new mangled friend doesn't have any more unfriendly mishaps before we open. I also want to make sure your new parts are operational so the abductions will go off smoothly."

"Head out? You mean...out there?" said Elizabeth, clearly shocked. "What about-?"

"Relax, Elizabeth," said Afton, growing impatient. "It's only programmed to go after people. As long as you don't activate your disguise, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, as menacing as it looks, it was never designed to actually harm, only frighten, though with how long it's been since the last time it's been used, I am not entirely certain that safeguard is still operational. Just go!"

She gave him a look of uncertainty before turning and walking out the office door.

Afton sighed. "Just like your mother, you are, Elizabeth," he muttered. "It's a miracle she lasted as long as she did before she left." He put a hand up to his forehead, rubbing it. He looked up at the ceiling, an unusual glint of sadness in his eyes obvious even from the video's poor quality. "Oh Laura, if only you were here, hon."

John stopped the video there, blinking as his hands lifted nervously off of the table. Despite Afton and Elizabeth being gone, it made him feel uneasy that just recently they had both been in this room discussing their next kidnapping plot. He looked down at the desk, which surely had once been Afton's mastermind control center, with everything he ever needed literally at his fingertips on two separate monitors. He found himself lifting his hands away from the desk, as though some of Afton's essence were still attached to it. He felt sick in a way he hadn't since that fateful day in Aunt Jen's house when he found Charlie and her counterpart's bodies connected together via the same knife that killed her father.

His eyes drifted toward another other recorded video on file that had caught his attention. It was the oldest video at the bottom of the list. It was dated October 31, 1982.

* * *

_I was there, you know_, Nightmare said with a grin.

"You were where?" asked Sam nervously.

_I was with you last night._ Nightmare laughed, a horrible demonic sound. _Don't you remember?_

Sam thought back. As he skimmed through the events of the previous day, he did recall seeing it at some point. That ugly face had become so familiar to him now, and he certainly remembered seeing it sometime last night. But where? Was it at the remains of Henry's house with Jessica? Was it at the cemetery at Charlie and Henry's graves? Was it at Fredbear's in the closet?

_Fredbear's_. He remembered. It was standing behind Afton, grinning widely as the rabbit-suited Afton ripped his sister from him. It was there when poor Sam ran after them trying to catch them, but it was following him. It charged at him in that restaurant. _But did it? No, it didn't. At least not really. It was all gone when I opened my eyes._

"You were in my dream," he said quietly.

Nightmare's mouth curled into a smirk. _Only your dream?_

Sam held its gaze, trying his best to stomach its appearance, which seemed to only continue to grow more and more repulsive by the minute.

"W-what do you mean?" he stammered.

Nightmare laughed a delirious, psychotic noise, all without actually moving its mouth or head. Next thing he knew, Sam was standing back in Clay's living room with Kyle, his mother, and all the others.

"_Was Charlie really _that _special?" he said furiously. They had been talking about Henry's neglect of him and his mother._

_He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Kyle's. "Sam…"_

_He brushed it off angrily, glaring at him with more venom than he ever had before._

"_Don't start, Kyle. You don't understand. You never did!"_

"_You're not thinking clearly. You're...changing," said Kyle._

"_I'm fine. Just-"_

"_Sam," said Kyle, his voice growing noticeably more concerned, "You're being too emotional. I don't…"_

"_I'm fine!"_

"_You don't sound fine."_

_He turned away, fury burning within him like an inferno._

"_Sam, look at me!"_

_He felt himself be pulled toward his best friend. He felt his own fist strike flesh. He heard his mother's voice. He saw Kyle back away, his hands raised as though surrendering. As he did, Sam could swear he detected a glint of sadness and betrayal in his eyes. _

He shook his head. He remembered the conversation from the previous night, but he couldn't do anything about it. _What does this have to do with anything?_

There was another demonic-sounding laugh, and suddenly he found himself standing a few feet away from the scene, watching his own self saying it again from third-person.

"_Don't start, Kyle. You don't understand. You never did!"_

Sam was taken aback at how vicious and almost psychotic he looked. His eyes were dark and grim. If he didn't know himself any better, he could've sworn he was about to murder something.

And then something else hit him. He remembered seeing in one of his earlier jumpscare flashbacks a very similar look. It was in his own father's eyes right after he had smacked his son for getting too close to his new creation.

_Like father, like son. Don't you think?_ the voice teased with a dark chuckle.

"No, that's not what-"

_It doesn't matter what you think your intentions were_, the voice said. _All that matters is you're becoming your father. You're following in his footsteps, just as I planned. The same way I got your father to waste his life crying over his daughter and neglecting his family, I now got you to leave all of your friends behind to come on this foolish mission. And this where you will die._

"No," Sam said, grabbing his forehead which had begun to throb painfully, his breathing becoming more intense. "No, that's not true. That's-"

There was a small flash.

_He found himself standing back in the doorway of Henry's shed, his young toddler arm reaching toward the small unfinished creature with a doll's head on it. It was an interesting doll, not like the animals from the restaurant. This looked like a girl. In fact, it almost looked a lot like-_

_Before he could touch it, his father's hand smacked him hard across the face. He fell to the ground with a cry, tears forming in his eyes. What had happened? Was Daddy upset about something?_

_He turned up to his father's furious face, that same vicious, almost unfamiliar face that terrified him. And standing behind this man who'd once been a loving father was none other than it, its white piercing eyes, matted fur, and dark smile clear as day. It had one had firmly clamped on Henry's shoulder._

"What are you?" Sam asked.

_I told you. I'm part of you. I'm part of everyone...in various ways. And I've been following you your entire life. I was there last night._

Another flash and he once again saw himself from third-person.

"I'm fine!" His own voice sounded like thunder. He watched himself strike Kyle in the face with his fist. Standing behind him, more menacing than ever, was its dark shape, its bony, furry, matted hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"No," was all he managed to say.

_Face it. Like it or not, you're mine now,_ Nightmare said with another laugh.

* * *

Kyle stared at the creature in front of him, which only stared back at him without movement. Kyle wasn't sure if this was better or worse than the chasing. Just looking at it up close in low light was nauseating. It looked like an unfinished mess as though someone had given up halfway through. There were loose wires and bits of metal sticking out of the body here and there. The head looked loose like it might fall off. He would have wished that would happen if it meant that it would die and he wouldn't vomit at the sight.

He took a step back as the creature mimicked his move with a step forward. It tilted its head, gazing down at the young man before him.

"Come to me, little boy," it said in a creepy voice.

_Does it recognize me as not being a kid?_ Kyle thought.

Its eyes flashed a glow of yellow and its mechanisms whirred. It took another step forward. Kyle moved back.

_It looked so tall, so lifelike, so friendly._

Another step forward. Another step back.

_Its ears were long and curved. Its eyes were bright. Its one-colorful cheeks were rusted and gray. Its smile was wide. Its buck teeth evenly protruded from its mouth. Its face was happy. _

Another step forward, eyes glowing brighter. He took another step back. His foot bumped into the wall behind him.

_It moved robotically as it sang to the crowd that wasn't there. There was never any crowd at the Ridge Mall. It was so old people were used to it. They walked by, minding their own business, not sparing a glance at the rusted animatronic rabbit that, rumor had it, would be put out of its misery within the month._

His hands touched the cold wall behind him. He was now trapped as the tangled mess of an animatronic continued moving toward him. His breath was running rampant. His mind began to go numb as the creature's appearance began to alter. He could've sworn he saw long ears and buck teeth. He was about to pass out.

_He walked over to see the rabbit. He'd seen other children giggling as they watched it earlier. He didn't share their joy. Something about it unnerved him, the way it looked like an old toy but moved on its own like it was alive. As he stood staring at it towering over him, it glanced down at him. Immediately, it stopped moving and singing with a loud click. It held his gaze for a few moments, and he found himself frozen to the spot. His legs wanted to run, but they forgot how. A crack sounded, and the rabbit moved toward him seamlessly. He tried to call for help, but it was suddenly upon him, pinning him to the floor. His arms were stuck, as were his feet. He couldn't move. He called for his parents, for anybody. He heard a rush of footsteps and a scream. He turned his head and felt a piece of metal dig into his skin making him cry out in pain. He turned it back to see that the rabbit's head had split open, revealing a featureless robotic face and wide eyes staring back at him, making him scream. Suddenly, he felt the weight lift off of him and his mother was there, shushing him while his father's loud, angry voice erupted from feet away as he argued with a man in a suit. His father screamed about something called a lawsuit while the man in the suit apologized and said something about the leg supports rusting out. He buried his young, tear-soaked face into his mother's shoulder as the world around him faded away._

A loud bang and a bright flash made him flinch. The large monstrous endoskeleton in front of him twitched and disappeared from view. From elsewhere in the room, through a tangle of disembodied parts, came a bright, orange glow. Confused, Kyle glanced down.

His arm was outstretched ahead of him, and in his hand was the flare gun.


	16. World of Illusion

The third door in the room with three doors creaked open as Jessica practically threw herself inside. Immediately, she was hit by an awful stench. Her hand flew to her nose as she tried her best to keep her stomach in check. The stench in this room was unbearable like something had crawled in here to die. With watering eyes, Jessica began moving through the room.

"Do you smell that, Kyle?" she asked. There was no answer. With widened eyes, she turned behind her. He wasn't there. "Kyle? Where are you?" Panic began to set in. Had he run in another direction? She hoped not. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere in the building by herself. Her anxiety was heightened when she heard the loud thudding of the creature just outside the door. With a small shriek, she turned and moved further into the room, trying to ready herself for a quick escape. Her heart was practically leaping out of her chest and her breathing was sporadic. She could hear a loud thudding. She reached the thick metal door on the other side of the room and yanked the doorknob. It moved an inch before stopping. "No, it can't be locked! No!" she cried, yanking on it for dear life. It wouldn't budge. She turned around slowly, half anticipating the demonic-looking monster to be charging toward her. To her great relief, there was nothing there. As she tried her best to slow her breathing, she realized that the thudding she had been hearing while she ran was her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"At least I'm not trapped," she said, remembering there was more than one way to go back where she came. As she calmed her breathing, the smell came back to her and she quickly pinched her nose. "Seriously, what is that?"

The room was absolutely cluttered, more than any of the other rooms she'd seen. There were boxes of papers, old bolts, even some strange chemicals. It was amazing that what was clearly supposed to be a horror attraction in the middle of nowhere was so disorganized.

_What, did something happen to him? It looks like his life fell apart after he built this place. Oh, who am I kidding? His life was always a mess!_

She began working her way back toward the door, amazed that she had run right around most of this stuff without realizing in her panic. She couldn't tell what the smell was, but it seemed to be growing fouler and fouler with each passing second. She had to get out of here, but she couldn't just walk back into the previous room unless she was sure that the beast wasn't in there. It was certainly an odd place...a building with a large radio antenna in the middle of nowhere that gave off the appearance of an abandoned radio tower but on the inside looked like a haunted house, both of which masqueraded its true purposes: to torment and even kill kidnapped children. Jessica couldn't help but wonder how many children had been brought here and forced to run through this maze of terror. Could Michael have been one of them? Or even Charlie? The thought brought tears to her eyes but she shook them away.

_Focus, Jessica. Right now, there are other things to worry about._

She felt something against her hip and before she could do anything, a box fell to the ground with a loud crash. She stood silently in horror, holding her breath listening for the thumping footsteps of the beast. After about fifteen seconds, she heard nothing. As she bent down to inspect the contents of the crate-like box, she was suddenly overwhelmed by its stench.

"This is what's been causing that horrible smell!" she whispered, covering her nose. "Ew!"

It looked like a glass jar broke and a brown, murky liquid was leaking onto the floor. It looked like beet juice, only thicker and more sludge-like. Against her better judgment, she turned the crate upright and peeked inside. There was a mostly-undisturbed row of similar jars at the bottom. While not that big or heavy, the box still looked big enough to have once housed a few more rows of the stuff, but only a few had fallen out and broken. Jessica wondered what they could possibly be used for.

As she made to turn away, something caught her eye. Sandwiched between one of the jars and the inside wall of the box was a piece of paper. Curious, she carefully pulled it out, taking extra caution to not even touch the jars. It was an old note that showed definite signs of its age: yellowing paper, fading ink, and tears along the edges. There was a faded but still legible message.

_Will,_

_ As you requested, here's our latest work. I'm not sure why you suddenly need this so badly. Based on what you told me, those animatronic suits your partner made sound perfectly safe to me. But hey, it's your decision._

_ Anyway, this is our newest creation, fresh from our labs. It's a unique combination of adrenaline boosters, blood coagulants, and all the other bells and whistles you'd expect from such a mixture, only we've greatly modified the dosages to work much faster and stronger than anything we've made before. We've also provided you with a syringe and needle with all of the instructions on how to dose this stuff on a daily basis. Should anything happen with those suits, this should keep your body functioning long enough to get help. _

_However, I must warn you, my friend: there have been some concerns about some infectious side effects. We tested some on Pedro last month after he somehow got a knife to go through his hand. His initial healing process went very well. We were quite pleased, but since then, he's lost about twenty pounds and his face is looking much paler. He's also been having some bad vomiting episodes. We think some of the chemicals we introduced may have some unforeseen reactions with metal. And before you ask, the knife was a kitchen knife, so it was clean. Of course, it could be a coincidence, given some of his habits (you know the ones), but honestly, if I were you, I'd try to avoid putting myself in any situation where I'd need to use this stuff. In the event of complete body implement, it may buy you some time, but it still probably won't save you in the long run unless you find some other way to enhance it, and that may worsen the side effects. Personally, I don't think it's worth it. But again, it's your decision._

_ Take care, my friend, and be careful._

_ Ramirez._

Jessica shook her head. Taking another glance down at the undamaged jars, she couldn't help but suddenly step back. Knowing their connection to Afton and his plight, she suddenly wanted to be as far away from them as possible.

It didn't make sense. Charlie had mentioned the spring locks and their dangers many times, and they had all witnessed it first hand when she allegedly killed Dave, the disguised Afton, at the end of their first night of terror at Freddy's. He looked awfully thin and pale, then, and Carlton had mentioned the scars all over his body. She could've sworn she'd even caught a glimpse of a few herself here and there. Obviously, Afton already had experience being nearly killed by the suit. But when had it originally happened?

_Is this really what kept Afton alive after all these years?_ she wondered. _But the letter said that complete body impalement would still most likely be fatal._ With hesitation, she thought back to that awful moment in Circus Baby's, listening to the wheelchair-bound Afton gloating over his masterpiece, staring down at the lump of animatronic on the table, which was writhing in unspeakable agony. Its core was orange, a glowing light of the mysterious remnant of Afton's design. It was the same material that Carlton described that had been injected directly into his heart. Surely that was much more than a simple chemical mix that he'd imported. She shook her head. _What did Afton do?_

Suddenly from nearby came a loud crash that echoed from the doorway. She jumped and let out a small shriek.

_What was that?!_

The sound of a siren began blaring through the hall. She cupped her hands over her ears. It sounded a lot like the fire alarm at her high school. As soon as the thought entered her mind, the unmistakable smell of smoke came through the open doorway from which she came, accompanied by an intense burst of heat. Her eyes widened.

"Kyle!"

She made her way back over to the door as quickly as she could, tripping over things as she went. She emerged into the room with the three doors only to see that the other two were no longer there. Instead, she was looking into a wall of burning rubble that was completely blocking access to where she and Kyle had been only minutes before.

"Kyle?" She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the smoke and flames. She heard a groaning sound coming from above her. She glanced up at the ceiling and noticed that the intact part above her was bending down toward her.

"Kyle! Where are you?" she called again, much louder. "Kyle!"

"Jessica?"

"Kyle?" Her eyes darted nervously through the burning debris, trying in vain to locate the source.

"Jessica!"

"Kyle? Is that you?"

"I'm here! Can you see me?"

He stood up on her toes, trying her best to see over the barrier now separating them. Between the debris, flames, and thickening smoke, it was hard to make out anything specific in the rubble.

"No, I can't! What happened?!" she cried.

"I don't know. That thing cornered me and I guess I panicked. Next thing I know, there's a fire!"

"How did it happen?"

"I may have shot at the thing with my flare gun."

"What?! Why did you do that?"

"I don't know, Jessica! Like I said, I panicked! Look, I'll be fine. Go get John and signal Clay outside. Take the gun."

"What about you? What about Sam?" she protested.

"I'll find my own way out!" Kyle shouted as a piece of metal fell from the ceiling onto the burning debris pile between them, causing the flames to surge upward. "I'll be fine, Jessica. I'll try and find Sam, too, unless he already found his way out. Just go! We need to tell Clay where we are. Take the flare gun. I'll slide it to you."

"But-"

She was interrupted by something emerging from beneath the rubble and hitting her feet. She bent down and picked it up.

"Just go, Jessica. I'll be fine! Grab John, signal Clay!"

"Be careful!" she shouted back through the flames as she heard the sound of footsteps running away. She looked down at the orange plastic pistol in her hands. It felt warm like he had been gripping it tightly.

A low rumbling noise came from above her. She looked up and saw the ceiling beginning to dip above her. With a frantic breath, she turned back to the door from which they originally came and sprinted toward it, barely crossing the threshold before a loud crash came from behind her. She turned back to see the room she had been in seconds before now completely filled with a mess of parts. Despite her panic, she let out a small chuckle.

"And they said only track runners can be fast. How was that, Mom?" she said, a brief moment of relief that was soon replaced with somberness once again. "Good luck, Kyle."

She turned and continued moving back toward the entrance.

* * *

_You're mine_, Nightmare said again, a menacing grin on its face. As Sam continued staring into those white eyes, he could swear its shape was changing. _No,_ it said, _you're not losing your mind. At least not quite yet. How about I change into something a little more familiar?_

Immediately, its shape began distorting and flexing in a mass of blackness. After a few moments, Sam could begin to distinguish certain features. It was familiar, but what was it? He saw rounded ears and a hat. Then came the big round eyes, nose, and hinged jaw. It looked the same as before, only this time, the fur was yellow. By the time the chest and bowtie began to take shape...

_No,_ he thought.

_Yes_, Nightmare said, a hint of amusement in its voice. _How do I look? Not too old and gross, I hope?_

Sam took a step back. "You...you're not Fredbear." Had he said that already? He didn't remember.

_No, I'm not...at least not as far as you think. _Nightmare grin widened, its eyes flashing white.

"Get out of here," said Sam, gathering up as much courage and determination as he possibly could. "Get out of my life."

Nightmare laughed, a high-pitched, insane sound.

_Get out of your life. You actually believe I take orders like that? You must be out of your mind. No, wait. You're trapped in your mind...with me._

"I'm not-"

"Sammy!"

Sam's eyes widened. That voice came from right behind him. Could it be?

He turned slowly. Standing only feet from him, clean and pampered with a smile on her face, was Charlie.

"Charlie? What are you-?"

"It's time to play, Sammy," she said, her voice distorting halfway through the sentence. Sam let out a wail as her eyes suddenly turned red and her teeth became crooked and pointed. Within a matter of seconds, her appearance had completely changed into that of a demonic-looking beast.

There was a flash of bright light. Sam shut his eyes, his injured brain crying out in severe pain as the ringing in his ears intensified greatly.

_Make it stop. Make it stop,_ he thought desperately.

Suddenly, it did stop. There was dead silence. Sam was afraid to open his eyes. What would he see this time? Afton? Nightmare in another one of his frightening appearances? A deranged version of his father?

He jumped back a little when the sound of a nearby grandfather clock echoed from down a hallway. He knew that sound! It couldn't be..._he_ couldn't be…?

His eyes slowly opened and he almost choked on his own breath. He was standing in none other than his bedroom, the same one he shared with Charlie, only she wasn't there. He was alone. It was nighttime, although there was some light from the moon coming in through the window, exactly like one would expect to see in a horror movie. The door was cracked ever-so-slightly, not enough to see outside by enough to hear.

He shook his head and reached up to feel his forehead, wondering how much he was sweating, when he noticed he suddenly had a flashlight in his hand.

"What is this?"

_Thud._

He gasped. That sounded heavy. Heavy and familiar.

_Thud._

He turned to the door behind him. It was getting closer.

_Thud, thud, thud._

He let out an audible gasp as he heard the footsteps come from right outside the door. He ran over and grabbed the doorknob, listening intently for any sign of life on the other side. A large puff of air blew at him and he immediately shut the door, trying his best to keep it shut with his shaky hands. His breathing was rapid and irregular and sweat was pouring from his forehead like a river.

A dark, low laugh came from behind him. Turning frantically, he aimed the flashlight he had in his hand at the closet. The laugh came again, this time a little longer and deeper.

_There's something in there!_ He charged at the closet and pulled it shut, briefly illuminating Nightmare's smiling face inside as he did so.

"What is this?" he asked aloud, hoping that someone or something would answer.

Another laugh, this time from back outside in the hall. He hurried back over and held the door shut, not even bothering to check outside.

"Get out of my head," he said. "I'm tired of these games."

"Sammy?"

It was Charlie's voice again. He turned with wide eyes. She was there, standing in front of her bed, her young tear-soaked eyes looking up at him, fixated on his face.

"Ch-Charlie? Is that really you?"

"I thought you loved me, Sammy!" she said, her young voice echoing through the halls.

"I do, Charlie. Please…" He reached out his arms.

"No!" she cried, moving away. "You let the bad man take me! It's your fault I'm dead! It's your fault Daddy's dead!"

"Charlie!" Sam cried. Tears were flooding down his face now. "Please, I love you."

"No, you don't! You didn't protect me! You never came back for me! It's all...your..._fault!_" Her voice greatly intensified on the last word, sounding thunderous to his ears making him jump back.

"Charlie…"

Without another word, she rushed past him and out the door.

"No, Charlie. Wait!" he cried, making a break for the door.

As he peeked out, he nearly screamed. It was Nightmare, no question about it, only much uglier. Its face had decayed from the blackened version of Fredbear it'd been masquerading as. Its jaw was sagging downward as if melted. Its ears were twisted, one bent backward at a slight angle. Its hat and bowtie were both lopsided and its eyes, while still white and piercing, were angry. Somehow, it looked even deranged than it already had.

Sam slammed the door shut with all his might and fell backward onto the ground. He covered his face, trying willfully to block out the noise of the thudding.

_It's not real_, he thought to himself. _That wasn't Charlie. That wasn't real._

Yet his thunder heart and frantic breathing wouldn't stop. He tried in vain to calm himself in the wake of the impact that was surely coming.

But it didn't come. Instead, when he opened his eyes, he saw that he was back in the same room he'd been in before. It took him a second to remember that he was still in Fazbear's Fright trying to get out. As he looked around, something was off.

"Where's the stage?" he asked. "And all of the other diner stuff?"

_I told you_, came Nightmare's sneering voice. _It was all in your mind._

Sam turned and saw Nightmare standing a few feet away from him, more composed but still slightly more decayed than before.

"Leave me alone," Sam said weakly again, turning down to face the floor as he coughed. The air was getting thicker...and hotter. It smelled like smoke. Something was on fire.

Nightmare let out a low chuckle. _It's time._

* * *

Kyle slowly stumbled his way back toward the center of the room. He hoped that Jessica was able to make it back to John okay. As for him...he hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Finding his own way out? Easier said than done. He was hoping that his optimism had been enough to convince Jessica to get out. There was nothing she or John could do for him now except signal Clay. Hopefully, they'd even get the firefighters' attention. He needed them. He couldn't do this by himself, finding Sam and getting out alive. He needed help. He wasn't going to allow his pride to get the better of him again, not like…

_Focus, Kyle! Find Sam and get outta here!_

He heard a loud crash behind him. He knew what it was. From what he was able to make out through the smoke, the ceiling above where Jessica had been looked like it was losing strength fast. He closed his eyes._ Please, Jessica. Please tell me you made it outta there okay._

He continued moving as best as he could toward the center of the room. There had to be some vantage point from there, some way to see where else to go. Perhaps the door from earlier had been unblocked or there was a hole in the wall somewhere.

_"Hello?"_

He jumped in place and froze. It was that little boy's voice again from the speakers. But this one sounded close...very close. Only a few feet away.

_Don't be there. Don't be there, you little robot kid._

Slowly, he turned his head. In the midst of the smoke was the distinguishable silhouette of a young child, eyes glowing.

_"Hi!"_ This time, the voice sounded noticeably distorted. It was like the sound chip inside of him was damaged.

_Okay, _thought Kyle, not daring to make any sudden moves. It's just a small _animatronic. It won't-_

He heard a foul scream and saw it lunge at him, arms outstretched, ready to grab him.

_It was a clear night. The school grounds were covered in colored leaves. Despite the partial cloud cover, the glowing crescent moon seemed as bright as a fresh bulb. The wind brought a chill as it rustled the jackets and dresses of those who decided to leave homecoming dance a little early. Many of them were the upperclassmen who decided they had more important things to do with their dates on such a beautiful Chicago night. _

_Kyle scanned the crowd. He didn't seem him anywhere. Where was he? There were only so many places that a young man in a simple shirt and tie could've gone. He wasn't anywhere in the gymnasium or the bathroom._

_And then the thought came:_ Perhaps outside. Last I saw him, he looked bored out of his mind.

_Kyle moved toward the doors and walked through the almost vacant halls and out the front doors. Sure enough, there he stood, staring up at the night sky, his light jacket covering his shirt and tie. Kyle moved up._

"_You know, the ladies are getting a little antsy in there," he said with a chuckle. Sam said nothing, only continued to stare out at the sky. Kyle sighed. "Come on, Sam. Lighten up. I know it's been kind of hard for you, but it's been months, now. You gotta let Cyndi go. She's an airhead, anyway. Who cares about being rich or famous?"_

_Sam scoffed. "You're the one to talk."_

"_Sam, in case you haven't noticed, my circumstances haven't exactly helped me become the most popular guy in school for the last ten years." Kyle shook his head. "Seriously, leave Cyndi behind. If she needs to have a tall, strong football quarterback by her side to be pleased with herself, then she's not a woman worth pleasing."_

_Sam finally broke his gaze and turned to Kyle, an eyebrow raised._

"_My dad told me that," said Kyle. "He's very _inspirational_ about this stuff."_

_Sam shook his head, a smile starting to form on his face as he turned back to the sky. "Tell him I said thanks for the words of wisdom."_

_"Oh, I will. That'll probably make his day," Kyle laughed. "He loves you, Sam. You're like a second son to him, you know."_

"_So I've heard," said Sam._

"_Hey, I'm only saying it because it's true. Now, come on. Let's get outta here and go cruise the city!"_

_Sam laughed. "Oh really? A couple of sophomores with no licenses...or cars, for that matter?"_

"_Hey, whatever I need to say to get you talking is fine with me," said Kyle. "Come on. Jimmy and Eric said we can head over to the studio and mess around a little bit."_

_Sam's face lit up as he turned to his friend, amazed. "You're serious?! Jimmy's uncle is _actually_ letting us use his studio? For free?"_

_Kyle nodded. "That's right. We just gotta be outta there by nine, which is in…" He checked his watch, "...an hour and a half."_

"_Well, then. I'll call my mom and ask if she can maybe bring my guitar over. This is great! I'll be right back!"_

_Without another word, Sam turned and rushed inside. Kyle scoffed. He certainly knew how to get Sam's attention. Music always did the trick. It was good news for him, too. He had no more reason to be here than Sam did, but he figured if nothing else, it just might finally get Sam's mind off of the girl who dumped him several months earlier. If anything, it just made them both depressed. They were just two ugly fish in a sea of prettier ones. Kyle was the easy target and Sam was simply guilty by association. But it didn't matter. When Eric had stopped by to deliver the news, it put an end to the self-loathing. After a summer of waiting, their music career would finally begin. Kyle smiled as he looked up at the night sky. Yes, it was a good night after all._

_His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of pain in his head. He found himself on his hands and knees, his mind reeling as he tried to process what had happened. After a few seconds, his vision cleared enough to see an empty beer bottle lying on the grass near his hand. Behind him came the unmistakable laugh of the three people he didn't want to see tonight._

"_And down he goes!" laughed one of them. "Nice shot, Johnny!"_

_Kyle pushed himself aggressively off of the ground and turned to his attackers, fists clenched. "Yeah," he said boldly as he stared down the leader. "Nice shot indeed. Twelve years of practice and you finally managed to hit someone. Coach Thompson would be proud."_

"_Oh, shut up, Jackson," the jock retorted as his friends continued laughing. "Don't act like you're not humiliated."_

"_What are you even doing here?" Kyle asked. "I thought you said dances were for pansies with nothing better to do?"_

"_Easy targets like you," Johnny said with a laugh of his own. "What's the matter? Your boyfriend leave you here to rot in misery?"_

_Kyle's fists clenched even harder. He felt his nails digging into his palms and his hands shook._

"_What about you? Your girlfriend finally realize she can have someone who doesn't smell like a dead fish in a gym locker?"_

"_You should return that book of comebacks to wherever you got it," said Johnny._

"_I would, but I don't know where your mom lives nowadays," said Kyle with a smirk._

"_Watch it," Johnny growled, closing the distance between them to a few feet, "'cause I'll beat some respect into that empty head of yours."_

_Kyle made a mocking face as if shocked by the threat. "Sorry. I promise I'll be much more considerate of you from now on whenever I watch _Charge at Feather River_. I'll even tip my hat during your arrow scene. I'm sure you made your parents proud."_

_Johnny scowled. "Speaking of parents, how are yours doing?"_

_Kyle said nothing. Knowing Johnny Wilhelm, this could go a few ways._

"_Are they still crying over your pathetic performance in school? Or the fact that you can't seem to find any friends other than that loser Anderson? Maybe they would've preferred a daughter, instead. Someone who could at least turn more heads with her looks like a cheap whore. After all, if you can't follow in Mommy and Daddy's footsteps, you gotta do something to make money, right? Maybe that's what they wanted from their only child?"_

_Kyle huffed, his hands visibly shaking, his nostrils flaring and his teeth clenched tight. "You know you spit a lot when you talk?"_

"_Oh, wait," said Johnny, holding up a finger in mock realization, his beer-scented breath much more evident the more he talked. "That's right. You weren't even supposed to be here at all. You're a mistake."_

"_Dude, don't go there," said Kyle._

"_All that protection they had and you still managed to grace us all with your ugly face!"_

"_Shut up."_

"_What did your dad say? Did he blame himself or your mom? Whoever's fault was it that you were born, they owe the world a big apology!"_

"_Well you know, Johnny?" shouted Kyle. "At least my parents are happy together and I wasn't conceived in some lowlife rusty bar! Maybe you're the real disgrace here! No wonder your mother ran off with that millionaire stockbroker and left you with that disgusting alcoholic!" _

_The world suddenly flashed as Johnny's knuckles made contact with Kyle's jaw. He felt the rough unkempt cement dig into his hands as he spit a glob of blood onto the ground._

"_Why you little..." came the voice above him, shaky and seething with rage. "I ought to break your arms and legs right here, right now."_

"_Go ahead and try," Kyle said, looking up at his attacker. "With your performance at the last game, I doubt you'll give me as much as a scratch."_

_Johnny leaped at him, but Kyle rolled to the side. Johnny's fist hit the ground and he screamed in pain. Taking his chance, Kyle stood up and kicked Johnny in the side, causing him to double over. Kyle attempted another kick, his mind screaming in a blind fury, but felt four strong hands grab his arms and hold him steady as the angry jock stood up to face him. Kyle struggled against the guy holding him still, but they wouldn't loosen their grip._

"_I think it's long overdue that you learn to show us some respect, Jackson," Johnny muttered, gripping the front of Kyle's shirt and pulling him forward, their faces inches from each other. "This one's from my father." He punched Kyle square in the left cheek. "This one's from my mother." An identical punch on the right side. "And this one…" Johnny laughed. "This one's from me." _

_He pulled his arm back far. Kyle closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable punch._

_Suddenly, Johnny let out another cry of pain. Kyle felt himself drop to the ground. Before he could push himself up, a shoe struck his head and caused the world to flash once more. His vision blurred, and all he could hear from above him was the commotion of a scuffle. _

"_Not this time, Johnny!" came James' voice._

"_Yeah, that's it. You better run!" That was Eric._

_Next thing he knew, Kyle felt himself being dragged across the ground. He looked up to see Sam's angry face staring back down at him, blood coming from his nose._

"_You're a real idiot, you know that?" he said forcefully. "I told you a hundred times not to get dragged into anything with him. You just HAD to provoke him, didn't you?"_

_Kyle opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He had no words. In all of the demeaning exchanges he and Johnny Wilhelm had ever had, this topped it all. He had never felt so much rage toward anyone in his entire life. He looked over at the scene, where teachers and other administrators who'd heard the commotion were pulling everyone apart. James and Eric looked a little roughed up, but nothing too major. Johnny and his friends likewise had some scratches and bruises but looked fine otherwise. Sam, on the other hand, looked like he had taken a good punch in the face, and Kyle couldn't imagine how he must look. His head was pounding and his arms and legs felt like they were made of pudding. _

_Johnny and his friends were escorted inside, and Johnny's eyes looked vengeful as he passed. Now that the heat of the moment was long past, Kyle began to tremble as he replayed the events in his mind. _

What did I do?

_Within minutes, Sam and Kyle found themselves sitting on a bench being looked over by the school nurse._

"_Alright, Anderson. You've got some bruises, but you'll be alright. Jackson, you might need to be checked out at a hospital to make sure you don't have any brain damage. Both of your parents are on the way."_

_Kyle's heart sank. He knew he would be punished, but he didn't care. He was more worried about Sam. Before he could say anything, Sam said in a light voice:_

"_I'm dead."_

_He buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe this! Why did you do that?" came his muffled voice._

_Kyle groaned, his head still ringing. _"_But he said-"_

_Sam looked up. _"_His usual stuff, I know, but then you just had to keep running your mouth, too, didn't you?" Sam's voice was loud, rough, and a bit strained. "Is it really that impossible to keep your mouth shut and just walk away?! __I told you I hate having to pull you out of messes with him! This time, we're done for."_

"_You don't know that," said Kyle optimistically. "Maybe they'll understand. Everyone knows Johnny Wilhelm. Maybe we can convince them it was self-defense."_

"_SAMUEL!"_

_The voice made them both jump. Moving swiftly yet boldly toward them, menacingly, like the grim reaper, was Sam's mother. Her mouth was quivering. Her eyebrows were drooped into a frown so low it looked like she was fighting gravity to keep them up. And her eyes...they looked like two deadly hurricanes about to strike. Kyle shifted nervously in his seat, not wanting to look, but afraid to take his eyes off of the new threat._

"_M-Mom," stammered Sam. "Look, I-I can explain."_

"_Yes, you will. In fact, you'll be seeing a lot of me more for the next few weeks!" said Hannah, her voice booming across the yard and reverberating off of trees and walls. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the car. "Say goodbye to Kyle, Sammy."_

_Sam turned and gave Kyle the angriest look he'd ever seen from him. In those few seconds of eye contact, Kyle saw anger, humiliation, and even betrayal. In the weeks that followed, it wouldn't be the three-day suspension or the month-long grounding that would plague Kyle's mind. It would be none other than that look._

"_Sam," he said softly as he watched them drive off into the night. "I'm sorry."_

_A siren broke the silence as he turned and squinted into a bright light, holding a hand up to shield his eyes as he made out his parents approaching him with ambulance lights flashing behind them._

"Warning. Ventilation offline. Reset system not responding."

Kyle found himself lying on the ground, his head resting on the wall where he had fallen. He glanced around the room, his head still spinning as the alarms blared and lights flashed.

"Oh, yeah. Still in the horror house."

He slowly pushed himself up onto his feet, though his arms and legs felt weak. Either his body was also reliving the memory or the smoke was starting to seriously affect him. Either way, he found it hard to keep his balance. He rested one hand on the wall and put another to his forehead. He realized he was sweating, too.

"No, I can't. Not until I find Sam."

He began moving further into the room, struggling to regain his composure. The smoke was fogging his vision, making it increasingly difficult to see too far ahead of him. The best he could do was go step-by-step. He couldn't even tell where in the room he was anymore, though he figured he had to be somewhere in the middle because even with his vision quality worsening, he could occasionally see beyond a few feet and no walls were visible.

A sudden urge to cough overcame him and he stopped near a support beam, retching and gagging as his system tried to clear the carbon monoxide from his lungs. He leaned against the support beam, his body collapsing on it stronger than he anticipated. He was getting weaker much faster than he thought. He needed to get out of here. There had to be some other way to go. He tried peering through the smoke for anything of importance, anything that could help him, but he saw nothing. An awful gut feeling dropped like a stone in his stomach.

_What if this is it? What if this is how I die? Trapped in a burning building looking for my best friend? This is how we die._

He slumped further down against the support beam, almost completely on the floor now. He needed air. His lungs felt like they were on fire, consuming him from the inside out. To make matters worse, the roaring inferno near the entrance was rising and spreading faster than he'd ever seen. It was like it was being fed all of the air it needed to continue growing.

_Wait a minute! _

He looked up. There was an air vent above him. He followed it along the ceiling as best as he could through the black smoke until he eventually found a grate on it near the corner of the room.

_Maybe that's my way out of here! _

He began slowly making his way over toward the corner, eyes on the grate trying his best not to lose it in the smoke. He tripped over things, and into old shelves, and even had to duck away from a burst of flame that shot at him after something fell into it from the roof nearby.

_I hope I didn't get singed!_ Kyle held a hand to his face. _That would be a nightmare to explain to Mom and Dad!_

After what felt like hours, he found himself staring up at the vent grate above him. He looked around for a box or shelf, anything that he could climb on. There was a shelving unit nearby that looked supported enough. He stumbled over to it and placed a hand on one of the shelves. It was hot, but not unbearable. It would work.

He placed both of his hands on the shelf and lifted a foot onto one below. As he hoisted himself upward, he noticed two red dots on the other side of the unit. _Embers?_ He squinted.

A large puff of air suddenly shot at him and knocked him back onto the ground. As he landed, he heard a loud crash. Scrambling to his feet, he saw the shelving unit knocked over, and standing where it previously had been was none other than the beast.

"_I found you again!"_

* * *

"John?"

He said nothing. He didn't even move. His eyes were glued to the monitor.

"John? What are you doing?" asked Jessica. She was still ignored. She slowly approached him. Once she got within a few feet, he finally looked up at her, his eyes wide and blank as if he wanted to feel something but couldn't figure out how to show it.

"This is how it happened," he said in a low, almost inaudible voice.

"How what happened?"

He shook his head, a tear falling down his cheek as he turned back to the monitor. She noticed movement on-screen.

"What is that?" she asked, approaching him. A scream came from on the screen, causing Jessica to jump. John made no movement. He continued to watch in desperation and horror as he sat with his eyes transfixed on the scene playing before him.

On the screen, a large, yellow rabbit was wrestling with a little girl of only a few years. He was struggling to keep her within his grasp, but she kept wriggling out and trying to escape before he would grab her again.

"What is this?" Jessica whispered, her voice cold.

"Look at her, Jessica," said John in an almost inaudible whisper. "Really look at her."

She squinted down at the screen. With all of the movement going on, it was hard to make out any details. The rabbit was obviously Afton in a suit, but who was the girl?

"John, I really don't-"

Suddenly, the little girl managed to slip from his grasp and ran to the other side of the room, trying to hide under the desk. Afton stood in front of the door, effectively blocking her only escape. She looked back at him with tear-filled big brown eyes, her small mouth quivering. Jessica gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks, too.

"Is that-?"

"Charlie," said John. "The night she was kidnapped. He brought her here."

Afton took a step forward, making Charlie move further into the corner, looking up at him fearfully.

"Listen," said Afton in an unusually calm, friendly voice that John and Jessica hadn't heard since the night they met him as Dave. "I'm trying to help you."

Little Charlie only shook her head.

"I'm trying to save you from the monster out there."

"No!" screamed Charlie. "You are the monster!"

"No, I'm your friend!" Afton said desperately, taing another few steps closer to the trembling girl. "I'm here to save you!"

"Leave me alone!" Charlie cried. "I want Mommy and Daddy!"

"I'll take you to them," said Afton, making Charlie stop and look up at him. "I know where they are. I can take you back to them."

She sniffled. "R-really?"

"Yes," said Afton, some of his usual sinisterness creeping into his tone. "I can make you happy. I can give you your happiest day."

Charlie looked up at him. Even at her young age, John could tell she was seriously pondering what she was being told. She slowly stood up. Afton continued looking down at her.

She took a curious step toward the giant rabbit she had formally loved towering over her. John could only imagine the confusion his young friend was going through.

She took another cautious step...followed by another. The big yellow rabbit continued watching her every move. While he wasn't completely sure, John could swear he could make out a scheming look in Afton's eyes.

Finally, Charlie got within a few feet of the rabbit and slightly raised her hand. In a flash, Afton immediately grabbed her and pulled her into a strong embrace. Charlie screamed and resumed her struggling from before.

"I want to help you," Afton said. "You're safe from the scary monster out there. I'm only trying to help you, take you back to your family!"

"No, you took me away! I want to go home!"

She swung her small arms at Afton's suited face. He leaned back to avoid the blows. As he did, his free arm slipped behind him and grabbed a small syringe from the nearby table.

"Shh!" he said, still struggling to keep hold of the little girl in his arm. "This will hurt less if you hold still!"  
"NO!" she cried when she saw the syringe. "NO! I don't want to!"

"Be still!" said Afton, moving the syringe in syncopation as best as he could with Charlie's movements.

"NO! I WANT MY DADDY!"

She swatted at the syringe again, giving Afton the opportunity he needed to hold her arm out of the way with his own. In a quick second, he leaned in and planted the syringe deep within her neck.

Charlie screamed, making John cringe. Even though she was years younger, he recognized that scream all too well.

"There. That's a good little girl," said Afton in a much calmer voice.

Charlie, tears streaming from down her face, threw both of her small arms at the mask. They found their way into the eye sockets.

"Wait!" shouted Afton, but it was too late. As soon as Charlie's young hands removed themselves from the eye sockets, there was a loud snap. Afton immediately threw Charlie away from him. As her neck made contact with the edge of the desk, a loud crack sounded and she slumped to the floor. Afton was desperately clawing his own hands at his mask, struggling to get them inside, but a few seconds later, he dropped to the floor as well, twitching. Almost immediately afterward, a pool of blood forming beneath the suit.

"Oh my!" said Jessica in a low whisper.

Charlie coughed weakly. She tried to get to her feet, but her arms gave way. She coughed some more, crying while she did so. Her coughing grew worse and worse as the seconds passed. Soon, she sounded like she was coughing up a lung. Finally, she laid her head down on the ground. Her eyes were bloodshot and yellowing, and blood began leaking from them. She coughed a few more times.

"D-d-daddy…" she managed to murmur, and her eyes floated upward in her head and she laid down motionless next to Afton, still quivering in a pool of his own blood.

The screen went black. The room was silent at first, but then, even with the alarms still blaring, John's sobbing became more audible.

"John," said Jessica, struggling not to cry herself. "Please, that was years ago. We have to go." She was amazed at what was coming out of her own mouth. After witnessing first hand her best friend die as a child, she wanted nothing more than to curl up right there with him and sob. How was she actually being rational enough to remember their mission? Perhaps it was because she wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.

John didn't move. He only shuddered as his muffled sobs continued coming from beneath his arms.

"John, please! We have time to grieve later. The building's on fire! We need to get out of here."

John still didn't respond, though his crying stopped.

"Afton's dead, John," said Jessica, suddenly finding herself filled with a sense of indignation and justice. "This place is the only place left that he could still torment people without even being here, and it's about to burn to the ground. Justice has been served, but if we don't get out of here right now, we'll be dead, too. Charlie wouldn't want that, would she?"

John raised his head slightly, staring down at the desk in front of him. Jessica hoped that he was taking her words into account, though the thickening smoke that was creeping in was still running down the clock.

"John?" she asked, concerned.

John turned to her, his eyes still red and wet but with a look of determination on his face.

"You're right."

She smiled. "Now let's get out of here, already!"

A loud crash sounded right outside the room as part of a wall across the hall broke off and came hurtling toward the window. They quickly dove to the side right as the wall piece smashed through the window and crushed the desk and monitors.

"Let's get outta here!" Jessica cried, pulling John to his feet.

The pair ran back toward the main entrance, fighting off the intense smoke and blistering heat as best as they could.

"Wait!" John called. "Where's Kyle?"

"We got separated! Don't worry, he'll be alright!" she called back. _Hopefully,_ she added to herself.

Making sure he was still right behind her, they hurried into the storage closet and out the vent into the clear night air.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again found myself trying to finish the climax in one chapter but it ended up looking to be a little too long. The next chapter shouldn't be too long though. I hope you enjoyed. It really has been a long winter for me, but I'm doing my best!


	17. The Final Link

**AN:** Well, time for my monthly update. As I've said before, life's been..well, life...and there's much more planning out that went into the end of this story than the beginning, but I'm getting through it. Fortunately, I'm almost done. As it stands, there's only one more chapter to tie everything up. I can't say when that'll be out, but hopefully not too long. Happy reading, and stay safe out there!

* * *

The robotic beast stared its target down once more. Kyle felt like screaming but nothing was willing itself to come from his throat. The beast had taken damage at some point since its last appearance, whether from the flare gun or the after-effect. One side of its face had melted and was drooping downward, giving it the appearance of a smeared painting. Despite already looking like a messy, broken pile of mechanical parts, it still managed to look more like a nightmare than it already had.

_Easy, Kyle,_ he told himself. _Keep calm. Maybe it got damaged and can't see me._

With a loud crack, it tilted its head to the side, making Kyle wince.

_Or maybe that was a stupid thought, to begin with._

There came a loud metallic grinding noise. The creature kept its gaze locked onto Kyle's as its mouth slowly tried opening. Kyle wanted to begin moving backward, slowly and steadily, but his legs forgot how to work. The grinding noise continued relentlessly. Kyle's hands flew up to his ears.

_Another reason why I hate these things_, he thought. His entire body was shaking. _So much for not showing any fear._

Its eyes were glued on him steadily, a hint of malice in the singular dots it had for pupils, yet it remained where it was. Kyle fought the urge to run. He remembered watching animal shows with Sam. They'd both made fun of the guide and his thick Australian accent and the way he always seemed to be throwing himself right back into danger as soon as he got out. Now, he found himself struggling to remember whatever he could about what to do when in a staredown with a predator. He was drawing a blank, aside from the number one rule: _Don't make any sudden movements._

It just kept staring, occasionally twitching in the arm, leg, or head.

_What does it want me to do?_ Kyle thought in desperation. _Should I confess my burning red hot love for it and hope that it thanks me and walks away?_

Kyle was so entranced in his staredown that he failed to notice his foot subconsciously take a step backward. Its eyes widened and its jaw shot open with a loud crunch, a heavy metallic whirring sound emulating from somewhere within it. To Kyle, it sounded like a horrific scream.

In a flash, the creature began sprinting toward him. Instinctively, he dove to the left and began crawling underneath one of the large platforms that housed countless boxes of broken parts on it. He just managed to crawl forward enough to avoid the creature's grasp as he felt the whoosh of its movements behind him. He crawled forward, struggling in his panic to escape from the nightmare behind him. He didn't know where he was going or even if there was an escape on the other side, only that he had to keep moving forward.

Behind him, the beast stopped clawing at the opening and ran away, its loud, heavy footsteps fading. Kyle stopped moving, trying to pinpoint the direction in which it had gone. It sounded like it went right, but he couldn't be sure.

The steps faded, and it grew silent, as silent as it could be beneath the flames and occasional groaning noises coming from the ceiling above him.

_I need to get outta here_, he thought. _I have to. I will. I've done this before._ His mind flashed back to his days of playing laser tag with Sam. _Yeah, that's it! It's just like laser tag...only in this case, you die if you get caught._

He listened for the footsteps. They were completely gone. Still, he didn't trust the silence. He wished that it was more like laser tag without the fire. Then he could use the echoes to his advantage. But in this heat, he couldn't concentrate. His eyes were watering and there wasn't much light in the small space he had taken refuge in. There wasn't even any promise that the platform above him wouldn't crash down on him.

He shook his head, trying to think positively. _All I need to know is which way it went._

Immediately, a loud crash from behind him where he had entered clashed against his eardrums. He began scrambling forward slowly toward the exit on the other side. As he got close, he stopped.

_If it's used to catching kids...and clearly thinks I'm one...it obviously expects me to do something like a kid would. Maybe I can outsmart it. How would Sam do this?_

He remembered his sixteenth birthday at the Laser Tag Centre when his parents rented out the place. He and Sam were playing a 2v2 game of laser tag against James and Eric. After being surprised in an ambush, they had been chased to an intersection only to find that their pursuers had seemingly vanished.

"_Where are they?" he asked, glancing around the small space with a few different hallways branching in different directions._

"_They were just behind us," said Sam. "I think they may have gone that way…" He pointed through a wall. "...to try and cut us off at the next intersection."_

_"Are you sure?" Kyle asked. "I don't think they know the maze that well. We should keep going in case they're still following us. We'll find a way to lose them ahead."_

_ He turned and began to move but Sam yanked him back._

_ "Stop."_

_ Kyle turned back. "Sam, they're-"_

_ "Shh! You hear that?"_

_Kyle listened. Beneath the techno music pulsing through their bodies, the unmistakable sound of faint footsteps came from several feet away behind a wall. _

_ "They're going back!" Kyle said, softly enough for only Sam to hear. He pointed back. "You see? We need to go forward." He made to leave again, but Sam's grip held him firmly._

_"Wait."_

_ "For what? We'll be tagged if we stay here!"_

_ "Listen…"_

_ A small whistle came from the direction they came. Sam shook his head._

_ "That's Eric. I'm willing to bet he's got Jimmy waiting up ahead, ready to blast us because we didn't trust going back."_

_ As soon as the words left his mouth, they heard another singular pair of quiet footsteps moving on the other side of the wall._

"_Uh-huh," said Sam, pulling Kyle back. "Come on."_

"_Sam…"_

"_Trust me."_

_They went back the way they came. They found the area in which they had been ambushed deserted. Without a word, Sam signaled another hallway. They followed it to the end, where James and Eric were patiently waiting for them to come from another direction. Two more points and a lot of competitive laughs and groans._

As another identical crash came from behind, Kyle pondered the beast's motives.

_If it thinks I'm a kid, _he thought, _then it'll expect me to keep moving forward away from the loud, scary noise. _

With no more time to ponder, he began inching his way back, trying his best to remain silent. All the while, he kept his eyes locked on the space ahead of him, hoping with every fiber of his being that he was making the right choice.

His legs emerged from the platform, followed by the rest of his body. He slowly pulled himself up, gazing around the room for his pursuer. It was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief (which almost gave him a coughing fit), he turned to the shelving unit near the vent. It had been knocked away quite a few feet from its previous position but had fallen against another column supporting the ceiling. From the looks of it, he could still make a jump for the vent from the top shelf.

He took a step forward and felt something brush against his leg. It was a small crate full of parts that fell to the ground with a loud crash. With a new sense of dread flooding him, he turned back to the platform he had just crawled underneath. Through a tangle of burning metal and debris, he saw the robotic beast's face suddenly pop up from the other side. In an instant, it was gone.

Breath quickening once more, Kyle made a sprint for the shelving unit and began climbing it. The shelves were significantly weaker than last time.

_Oh, please don't break on me,_ thought Kyle. _Not now._

Thankfully, they held him. He climbed higher and higher while the smoke grew thicker and thicker. In his panic, he had forgotten about how smoke rises. He hoped that most of it was escaping in some other way besides the vent, like in the part of the building that had already completely collapsed.

He finally reached the top shelf and began grasping for the vent while trying not to lose his balance and fall. It was close, very close, yet just out of reach. After several failed attempts, his hand finally grasped the edge of the vent. He was just about to grab with his other hand when he felt a sharp sting of pain in his ankle and his body was yanked downward by a strong force. He turned in horror. The large metal claw-like hand was firmly latched onto his foot. Below, the horribly disfigured face and glowing pupils were glaring up at him.

_"There's no escape,"_ it said, its mouth now moving almost perfectly with formed syllables. Its hand began to slowly pull on his foot.

"NO!" Kyle screamed, shaking his foot furiously as he clung to the shelving unit with a strength he didn't know he had, nearly letting go as his body was slowly tugged downward. "LET GO OF ME!"

But the metal grip only tightened. Kyle screamed in agony. He felt like his entire ankle was about to be crushed. The downward pull continued.

"I've got you now, little boy," it said, its voice low and malfunctioning though still distinguishable.

"GET OFF!" Kyle screamed in a blind panic, continuing to shake his foot desperately out of the death grip. The metal fingers would not relent.

Those thin pupils continued staring right into his own. The beast smiled.

_"You're coming with me."_

Kyle shook his head frantically, turning to the vent. His fingers were only a foot away. He might have a chance if he lunged at it. If he failed, he would fall and the beast would probably have him pinned, but there was no other way. It was worth a shot.

He waited for the grip to slacken slightly. With all of his strength, he pushed himself at the vent away from the beast. He felt the claw-like grip slip down his ankle and away with a long scratch. Behind him, the beast lunged after him, but the sudden shift in weight caused the shelving unit to tip. As Kyle pulled himself into the vent, he heard a loud crash below him. Turning to give one last glance, he saw that the shelving unit had completely tipped over, causing an enormous uproar in the flame that felt dangerously hot against his face and body. A large quivering hand reached up toward him, trying vainly to grab him. Between two shelves, he saw those deadly eyes glaring up at him angrily. A second later, they flickered and went out. Immediately afterward, the entire scene below was engulfed in flames.

"And good riddance!" he shouted, giving a small victory pump with his fist as he turned and began crawling through the vents.

* * *

Sam fought to keep his eyes locked onto the white ones above him, afraid that if he looked away for a second, they would be gone. Nightmare continued to stare down at him wordlessly, not moving.

"Aren't you going to insult me some more?" he asked.

_In time._

"In time?"

_We're not done yet._

"Another game?" Sam asked, hopeful that the answer was no.

_No,_ said Nightmare. _I just wanted to make sure I still had your full attention._

_Oh, you have it,_ Sam thought. _How could I not after what I've been through?_

_Good, _said Nightmare, making Sam remember that it could read his thoughts, too. _Now, tell me...do you remember your second Christmas?_

Sam stopped moving. He stared into the white eyes that were still as fixated on him as ever.

_Do I remember my second Christmas? What kind of question is that?_

_I'll take that as a no,_ Nightmare said with another laugh. _Allow me to...shall we say...shed some light on the topic._

Sam winced and covered his face as another blinding light came out of nowhere and engulfed him. This time, he felt pain as it passed, like he had passed straight through the heart of a fire. His body screamed for relief as a whooshing feeling took over and everything fell silent. He remained huddled on the floor, face still buried in his hands. He didn't dare peek. He had no desire to see whatever ghoulish visions this playful entity wanted to show him.

"Sammy! Give it back!"

His breath stopped. He slowly lowered his hands, his mouth agape, as he saw two young children playing in their bedroom, _his_ old bedroom.

"No way. It's mine now!" the younger version of himself said, holding a small, golden plush bear above his head out of reach of Charlie's flailing arms.

"Sammy, I'm not playing! Give it back to me!"

"No! It's mine! Mommy and Daddy didn't give me one! I want it!"

"Sammy! It's mine!" Charlie cried, reaching for it as he held it further away from her. "Give it back!"

But the young Sam smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. Elbow still blocking his sister's determined reach, he grabbed the bear's head with his other hand. There was a loud rip, and he stood with the bear's head in one hand and the body in the other.

"NO!" Charlie shouted, falling to the floor in tears while the young boy examined the broken parts amidst the sobs of his distraught sister.

"No!" said the adult Sam, covering his face in his hands again. "No, that's not true. I would never-!"

_I didn't realize you were such a brat as a child_, Nightmare said with a deep chuckle. _Maybe that's why your father cared more about her than you. What parent wouldn't?_

Another blinding light shone faintly through his hands, and when he reluctantly peeked, they were once again back in reality, or at least he hoped it was. The smoke was so thick it was almost impossible to see anything at all. He turned and saw Nightmare, still as clear as before, staring down at him wordlessly from above once more.

"What...now?" he asked fearfully with a chunky cough. He wasn't an expert, but he had a gut feeling that his body was about to fail on him completely.

_Now? You'll see. It's about time for my final act._ Even in the smoke, Sam saw Nightmare smile broadly. _What's the matter? Running out of oxygen?_

* * *

"Sam! Where are you?" Kyle called, hoping against hope that was somehow being heard. The air was clouded by black smoke, not that he could've seen much anyway with the darkness of the vent. _If only I hadn't lost Charlie's flashlight running away from that thing, right when I needed it most!_ The metal beneath his hands and knees was growing hotter. He wasn't sure where he was in the building anymore but sooner or later Sam would probably hear him. He coughed and banged his hand on the vent floor a few times, hoping he would be heard. "Sam!"

"_Sam, talk to me!"_

"Sam! Can you hear me?"

"_Sam, please!"_

He shook his head. _Sam has to be somewhere. He has to be. He has to forgive me._

"Sam!"

"_Sam, please!"_

"_Why should I, Kyle?!"_ _When his voice finally interrupted the silence between them, it caught him off guard and turned the heads of everyone around them._

"_Because you know you love me too much." Kyle had no idea why he thought humor would win him over, not after what had happened._

"_Cut the jokes, Kyle," said Sam, turning back to his locker. "I don't want to hear them today."_

"_Ok, you're right. I'm sorry." Kyle straightened himself as best he could, trying to look rational. "But hey, at least it was only a three-day suspension. We could've been expelled."_

"_Right. _Only _a three-day suspension," said Sam, still avoiding Kyle's eyes._ _"A three-day suspension that's now on our permanent record, pretty much putting a damper on any chance I have to go to college."_

"_You said you weren't sure about college, anyway!" Kyle protested, growing nervous. _Had he changed his mind?

"_I guess not...not anymore," Sam said, slamming his locker shut and finally turning to his pleading friend. "Oh, and let's not forget about the fact that, thanks to you, I'm also grounded for a month. In fact, my mom would lose her mind if she even saw me talking to you. You're not exactly her favorite person right now, you know?"_

_Kyle sighed. He knew that would come up eventually. His mother was always an obstacle, a rather fearful one at that. Just remembering the look in her eyes that night made him shiver._

"_You're right, Sam. I'm sorry. I got carried away and it cost us both. I'm sorry you got in trouble. You didn't have to pull me out like that. It is my fault, and I don't deserve anything from you."_

_He paused, waiting to hear a response from Sam. He got none. Sam only stared at him, his eyebrows slightly raised but his face still like a stone._

"_I know I've done a lot of stupid things, and quite frankly, I'm amazed that you've put up with me all these years. I know I'm a nightmare to be with."_

_He heard a small huff come from Sam's nose. He hoped it was a chuckle._

"_Well," said Kyle, out of things to say. "I'll...see you around, I guess." _

_He turned to walk away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him._

"_Hang on."_

_Kyle turned back. Sam's face had softened significantly. He looked like he had just taken a three-hour nap, minus the messy hair._

"_It so happens," said Sam matter-of-factly, "that I stood up for you the other night."_

_Kyle gave him a confused look. "What, you mean with your mom?" Sam nodded/_

"_She told me she wanted me to break our friendship, that all you're going to do is get me thrown in jail one day."_

_ "But?" said Kyle hopefully._

_Sam scoffed. "But I told her that it wasn't necessarily your fault that the biggest self-absorbed, alcoholic jock in the school decided to make you his target for the night, and reminded her about all of the good times we've had over the years."_

_ "And she gave up?" asked Kyle, amazed._

_"Well, it took a little while, but eventually, she relented. She reminded me about how much I mean to her, you know, mom stuff, and then she told me that I'd better keep a close eye on you if we keep hanging out."_

_ "So…" Kyle hesitated. It sounded too unbelievable to be true. "Does that mean we're okay, then?"_

_Sam smiled. "Yeah, we are." _

"_You promise?"_

_Sam looked at him for a moment and smiled, nodding. He extended a hand, which Kyle immediately grabbed and pulled Sam into an embrace. He felt a hand pat his back and he smiled. How he'd actually gotten out of this one, he'd never ceased to be amazed at._

_ "But hey," said Sam sternly, pointing a finger after they parted. "You owe me for this."_

_ "Sure," said Kyle without a second thought._

_ "I'm serious, Kyle. You really need to think before you open that big mouth of yours, otherwise, I just might not be there to bail you out again."_

_ "Uh-huh."_

_ "And I wasn't kidding about owing me, either. Think of this as an IOU. I don't know when or where, but one of these days, I'll be calling in a favor of my own."_

_ "I'll be there," said Kyle, raising his right hand and placing his left over his heart. "No doubt about it. And if I ever get on your nerves again, just tell me. Or maybe go to your happy place you always go to when you're bored, wherever that is."_

_ Sam shook his head. "Shut up. Don't make me punch you."_

_ Kyle's smile faded slightly. "Is that part of your happy place?"_

_ Sam laughed. "Maybe."_

There was a loud crack and suddenly Kyle found himself lying on a hard wooden floor. His upper arm and shoulder joint both ached from the impact of the fall. Groaning, he looked up to the ceiling and saw a gaping holein the vent above him.

_ Great. Just what I needed._

As he steadied his arms on the ground, preparing to push himself up, something caught his attention. Beneath the increasingly roaring flames and occasional bouts of metal scraping, Kyle was certain that he could make out a mumbling noise. It was very soft, and the words being said were completely indistinguishable, but it was there. Kyle slowly pushed himself to his feet, his ankle still bleeding from earlier.

The smoke was thick and heavy, much more so than the other room.

_Vents must be malfunctioning in here_, thought Kyle. He was finding it increasingly difficult to speak out loud. A loud crash a few feet to his right caused him to jump back right as a pile of burning debris clattered to the ground from above. _That almost killed me! That is, if my ankle doesn't do the job first!_

He turned to scan the room, scanning his eyes as best he could for the walls. There had to be some sort of exit somewhere. After spotting a wall and following it, he could see no such exit.

_How am I supposed to get outta here?! _

As he continued walking through the room, the mumbling was becoming louder, words becoming slightly more distinguishable. Kyle stopped walking as a realization hit him.

_Is that...Sam?_

He continued scanning over the flaming wreckage, trying to pinpoint the direction of the voice. The flames were still burning lively all around him, and there seemed to be a reverberation in this particular room. After maneuvering past another burning pile of debris, the voice suddenly seemed louder. Kyle scoffed in disbelief.

_I hear him! _Kyle thought with an excitement he hadn't felt in a while. _That's him over there!_ He started slowly working his way around the burning debris in the direction of the faint voice. _I wonder what he's saying?_

* * *

_Look at you. So pathetic. So weak. You're not even trying to fight me anymore. Has Charlie's strong, savior brother become too weak to fight?_

Sam said nothing but continued to lie on the ground as the smoke began burning his lungs and the intruding flames finally began blazing into the room.

_Then again, he's probably too weak to even save himself now, am I right? You stupid fool. You fell right into my trap. I knew showing up in your dream would get you to do anything for Charlie, even get yourself killed in the same place she did._

Sam fought for the strength to retaliate, but he had none. His vision was fading and his energy was draining rapidly. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He could hardly move.

_Face it,_ said Nightmare, suddenly standing a few feet in front of him, its wide, dark grin hovering over him, white eyes shining through the thickening smoke. _You're dead. In fact, to your father, you've been dead for years. Charlie was always the special one to Daddy. You were nothing. That's why he left you, you useless wretch._

Sam couldn't move. His lungs were on fire and his vision continued to tunnel. He laid his head down on the hard, hot tile floor, his face protesting against the hot surface.

_Kyle's not coming for you, either_, Nightmare taunted, its voice still clear as day above him. _Not after the way you've been treating him these last few years._

"I haven't...done anything," said Sam.

_Nothing? How about the fact that he's been clinging to you for most of your life, his only friend, and you've been taking it for granted?_

Sam coughed.

_Don't deny it. I'm part of you, so you can't lie to me. Ever since you pulled him out of that fight and told him that he owes you, you've been holding it over his head. Sure, you never told him that. What "good" friend would? But you have been, and you know it. He's looked up to you for years and still does now, and all you're doing is holding to what he owes you. You only care about what you can get from him, but you don't care about him. Why should he care about you, now?_

Sam coughed again, louder, a glob of mucous falling onto the ground. His lungs felt like they weighed fifty pounds.

"He'll come for me," he muttered, still summoning the energy to return his enemy's death glare, though his eyelids were growing heavier. "He always does. He...he can't leave me alone. Even if that is true..."

He was interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing as his lungs continued trying to expel the toxic smoke from his body. He wasn't sure how long he was coughing. All he knew was that he felt like he was going to die right then and there. Part of him wanted to do it...to just lie down, close his eyes, and go to sleep, hoping that he would wake up and everything would be okay. It was a lulling temptation, but he knew he couldn't do it. It would be suicidal. He had to fight through the pain, though how he would operate his legs, he had no idea. After his coughing finally began to subside, he turned his gaze once more to Nightmare, still standing silently above him, a grin on its face.

"Even if that _is_ true," said Sam, "even if I have been holding Kyle's promise against him, he wouldn't let that stop him. He loves me too much as a friend. Even when I wouldn't speak to him for days, he followed me like a lovesick puppy! Kind of pathetic, really, but it's true! Because I'm his only friend! He won't rest until he finds me. He'll find me...somehow. And we'll get outta here...alive! You'll see!"

Sam finished his statement proudly, anger fuming through his veins. He was sick of the head games, the constant berating, and the lies. He just wanted it to end. He wanted to forget everything that had happened, to just go home and forget any of this had happened in the first place. But that wasn't going to happen and he knew it. With the way his body was continuing to shut down all of his major functions and abilities, he knew that his only hope of getting out was if Kyle...or anyone, for that matter...had, indeed, followed him in, a possibility less-than-probable.

Nightmare said nothing in response. Instead, the eerie smile only widened, shaking Sam to the core. It knew his thoughts. Deep down, Sam knew that his facade had done nothing.

"Sam?"

His heart skipped a beat. Could it really be that simple?

"K-Kyle?"

A pair of dirty shoes stood right in front of him.

"I thought I heard you talking over here."

_I stand corrected,_ Nightmare said with a smirk.

"How did you find me?" Sam asked his friend, looking up at him in amazement. He didn't have a single burn or scratch on him, though his hair was a mess.

"We've all been looking for you," said Kyle with a small smile on his face. "Your mom's worried sick, you know?"

"I know."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"I came to find Charlie," said Sam. There was no other way to put it, no way to sugar-coat it to make it seem more understandable. He had come to find his long-lost sister and had eventually found himself in one of the worst places he could've.

"To find Charlie," Kyle repeated, his smile falling to a frown. Sam couldn't help but groan. Why was he suddenly being so analytical at a time like this?

"Look…"

"Why did you leave us like that, man?" Kyle asked. "We've all been worried about you! And who were you talking to?"

"No one."

"Yeah, that's what I thought…" He looked around. "...but you were still talking as though there was someone here." Kyle's face suddenly went sour. "I...uh...heard what you said."

Sam gulped. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. "About what?"

"About me," said Kyle bitterly. "I was aware about the whole 'lovesick puppy' impression. I heard the gossip...but I…" He sighed deeply and shook his head. "I just...didn't think it would ever come from you."

"I'm sorry," said Sam. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I think you did," said Kyle. "You sounded pretty convincing when you were talking to...whoever it was you talk to in your spare time. Truth be told, I always found that to be a little weird, but I never made fun of _you_ for it."

The emphasis put on the last part made his intention clear.

"Look, Kyle. I'm sorry. I really am, but can we do this later? We need to get out of here."

"No!" said Kyle with a sudden force that took Sam aback. "No, I want to talk about this now. I came here looking or you, ignored everyone else who thought there was no way you'd end up here, and just survived a run-in with that..._thing_ back there. All because, like you said, you're my friend...whom I apparently follow like a 'lovesick puppy.'"

Sam could say nothing. Could this really be going where he feared it was going?

"And now I finally find you, only to discover that you've been using me?" Kyle said with a sad look on his face. "I made a mistake. A big mistake that night, I know, but I thought that you'd really forgiven me, that you would never hold something like that against me. I...I _trusted_ you, Sam."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought back as best as he could with his impaired bodily functions to the few years that had passed since the incident. It honestly had never occurred to him. He had forgiven Kyle, or at least he thought he did. Was it true? Deep down, was he actually holding it against his friend subconsciously and never realizing it. Perhaps Nightmare wasn't wrong. Maybe he was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry," he stammered.

Nightmare laughed. _Crying out for sympathy now, are we? What a joke! He doesn't care! There's no one here who cares! Don't waste your last few breaths on such empty words!_

Sam's heartbeat slowed. His mouth became too weak to move. Kyle's fiery eyes still stared down at him from above.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm sorry for being such a rotten friend. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah, you're right." He shook his head. His voice was surprisingly strong for someone breathing in as much toxic air as they were. Perhaps it was the anger giving him strength? "All this time, I always looked up to you, saw you as a role model of the type of man I so desperately wanted to be and tried to replicate that by forgiving you for last night. And this is what I get? To find out that this entire time, you've only been looking for a way to use me for your own purposes?!"

He scoffed, and Sam could suddenly make out a look of sadness in his eyes. He immediately recognized it as the same look from last night after he'd punch his friend in the face.

"Kyle, I'm…"

"No, I get it," said Kyle, anger flaring up in his voice. "You're the favorite, the one everyone here's really been wanting to see. After all, Clay did ask for _you_, right? You had to convince him to bring me along. And yeah, I have seen those looks of disappointment and uninterest all of Charlie's friends gave me when I showed up. You're the one everyone is interested in. I'm just the outsider who doesn't belong here, who's never had the luxury of joining the Freddy Fazbear Survivor Club by experiencing something traumatic!"

"Kyle, that's not-"

Kyle grunted in deep anger and frustration. He reached up and rubbed his cheek that was struck the previous night. "Well, you know what? Maybe it would've been better if you didn't forgive me after that fight, after all. Maybe you should've just thrown me away like a piece of trash. Sure it would've hurt, but at least then I could've eventually moved on from it rather than hang on to this false hope that our friendship had survived. Well, I'm done enabling that false hope, and I'm done enabling you. It's obvious that your sister's the one you really care about, so you can keep looking for her yourself. I'm going home." He turned and began walking away. "Since you found your own way in, you can find your own way out."

"Kyle, don't!"

"Goodbye, Sam. Tell your sister I said hi."

"No, Kyle!" Sam cried, raising a weak arm, fighting to scream it, but he didn't have the energy. "Please come back!"

But Kyle was gone, completely obscured by the smoke. It was like he was never there, to begin with.

Nightmare chuckled._ I think my work here is done. Have fun with Afton and your father in hell. _

And then, Sam was alone in the burning air and toxic smoke. He tried to push himself up, to take advantage of Nightmare's absence and get out before the building collapsed, but he couldn't move. The smoke was thick and overwhelming. He looked down at his hands and could scarcely make out that there was anything directly in front of him. To top it all off, his arm was still in major pain and his head felt like it wanted to explode. He vaguely remembered considering abandoning his foolish mission after he first emerged from the crash. It seemed like forever ago, now. All he had wanted more than anything was to find his sister, to prove that John wasn't lying or mad about seeing her for real, that she was somehow still alive.

None of that mattered now. In fact, nothing mattered other than the fact that he was dying. And Charlie...she wasn't here. She never was. He was more sure of that now than ever. Had it been the crash that caused him to hallucinate her? Was it the building that made her appear? Whatever the case, it didn't matter. He had been hoodwinked, and now he was surely dead.

As more of his body fell limp against the ground, he took one last look around the burning room, trying his best with his fading vision for any source of life, any source of salvation from the burning ruins, but could find none. There was no one there. He was completely alone.

_Someone...please help me._

With a final pained cough, he closed his eyes and moved no more right as the loudest crash of all thundered against his ears.

* * *

The world was spinning. All that he saw around him was swirling blackness. His body was thrown about in the motion, his head rolling to and fro while his arms and legs kicked all around. His stomach felt sick. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn't. The ringing in his ears had grown to be so loud that he would've covered his ears had his arms been working. His entire body felt like it was finally failing completely. He prayed that the end would come soon.

_This is agony. If I'm going to die, let it just be over with already!_

But then it all stopped. The noise, the motions, the pain. It was all gone. He felt numb as if he were floating. After an indeterminable amount of time, he summoned the courage to open his eyes. Somehow, despite his numbness, he was standing on both feet, no pain in either leg. The world around him was blurry with details missing. Perhaps that was his eyesight playing tricks on him. As he focused, the details around him slowly began clearing up until he eventually began to recognize them. He began walking forward slowly, still wary of the newfound strength in his legs.

Each step felt like it was about to slip and fall down a deep slope, yet he remained firm. He was walking in what appeared to be his old hallway, the one from his childhood. He took a step forward and the wood creaked beneath him. He looked down at the ground and noticed it was old and almost rotting, yet it held him. He took a look around. The walls were bright and clean, almost as if they were glowing.

_No way this is my old house,_ he thought. _There are no marks from Dad's experiments._

But as he continued to study his surroundings, he noticed the old lamp that his grandmother had given his mom before she died. He saw his dad's jacket on the coat rack and his flannel shirt draped over a chair in the living room.

_What is this?_

The sound of laughter came from down the hall. As he approached, his stomach churned. It was his and Charlie's bedroom, and there were two children inside. He walked into the doorway and gazed down at two similar-looking children playing on the floor. One of them, a boy, had a toy truck that he had gotten and was rolling it on the ground. The other, a girl, was holding a small plush bear with a black top hat and bow tie draped around his neck. His arms and legs were stretched out like he was made for hugging. She was laughing as she watched her brother play on the floor below.

"Look at what Daddy gave me for Christmas!" she said excitedly.

"Look at mine!" he said back, reaching for his own plush rabbit.

The two showed each other their gifts once more. They had already shown each other several times, but both were too happy to care.

"Look at this, Sammy!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly as she pushed a small button on the back of her plush. The bear moved his arms and legs upward, as though excited by something. The young boy did the same with his plush and they both burst into a fit of giggling.

The adult Sam couldn't believe his eyes. He felt tears begin to gush out as he watched the scene. His mind flashed back to one of Nightmare's memories and shook his head.

_It never happened,_ he thought with joy in his heart. _The day I broke Charlie's toy and heart...it was a lie._

He couldn't help but smile tearfully at the two children as he suddenly felt himself being lifted up. A calm voice spoke in his ear.

"_You're okay, Sammy. You're alright!"_


	18. After the Smoke Clears

**A/N:** I'm finally back with new content! Once again, my record of underestimating how much more there is to the story than previously thought stands strong. What I thought would be a comparatively easy chapter to write ended up being one of the hardest, with quite a bit of rewriting going on. I'd hoped for only one more chapter, but there are actually three chapters left, the first two of which are here and the last of which is in the works (and I'm pretty sure of it this time because I've got an outline, though don't hold me to it!). Enjoy, and once again, stay safe and be smart out there!

* * *

"Sam?"

The voice was calm and kind. He wondered if it could be an angel, like he saw in the movies. He felt his face being stroked by a gentle hand. He recognized the touch.

"Sam? Can you hear me?"  
His vision was growing brighter. It was like he was emerging from a dark tunnel.

"Look," came another voice. "He's opening his eyes."

"Sammy, wake up."

By now his eyes were fully open, though he was regretting this decision by the blinding lights above him. His head ached and his mind was swimming. He squinted as he began to notice silhouettes and shapes surrounding him, some white, some darker.

"Give him a moment," came another calm yet authoritative male voice. "His eyes are still adjusting."

Where was he? Was he in heaven? Was he somewhere else? He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he was surrounded by figures whose voices, calm and quiet as they were, were penetrating his sensitive eardrums.

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a low, guttural groan.

The gentle hand stroked his cheek again. "Sammy, honey. It's okay. You're okay."

The voice was definitely familiar, and this time, he identified it as coming from the closest figure on his left. As he stared blankly at it, certain features geban to take shape. He saw familiar hair, a smiling mouth, a straight nose, and two loving brown eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found himself looking into his mother's face.

"Hi, honey," she said, stroking his face again.

He opened his mouth to respond only to find that his vocal cords weren't ready to cooperate.

"Shh, easy," his mother said, placing a hand to his mouth. "Don't push yourself. You've been out for quite a while."

"Is he okay?" came another voice.

"I think so," said his mother, turning in the direction of the new voice. "Thank you again for saving him. It means everything to me."

Slowly, Sam turned his head to the new figure, whose face took the unmistakable shape of a young man with blue eyes, a lopsided grin, and unkempt, almost-bushy hair. He, too, had a large smile on his face.

It was Kyle.

"You don't have to thank me," he told Hannah. "There was no way I was leaving him there...for anyone's sake."

Sam couldn't believe his eyes and ears. _Kyle? What-but I thought-?_

As he continued looking around the room, his vision continued to clear and the ringing in his ears also began to subside.

Another figure approached him and stood next to Kyle. After a few seconds, his face came into view. It was John.

"Sam? You okay?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but his lungs still felt like they were trying to fully awaken from their slumber. He nodded.

"Don't push him too much," came the calm, authoritative voice again, followed by the appearance of a doctor. "His vitals are improving, but he's still very weak. Let his strength come back with time."

"How long will he have to be here?" asked Jessica, discernible just behind John.

"I can't say for certain," said the doctor, "but based on the fact that his vitals have been improving exponentially these last few hours, possibly within a day or two." A small beeping came from his waist. It was his pager. "I have to check on another patient. I'll leave you to it. Remember, don't push him too much. The more rest he gets tonight, the faster he'll be out of here." He wrote something on his clipboard and left the room.

With his vision finally clearing, Sam looked around the room. His mother was sitting right at his bedside on his left, her hand holding his. On his right, Kyle, John, and Jessica were watching him as well. Across the room, Clay was leaning against the wall with Carlton sitting in a chair beside him.

"Hey there, tough guy," said Clay with a smile. "You've been out for quite a while. Feeling alright?"

Sam nodded again.

"Good," said Clay. "Just take it easy like the doctor said."

He looked at his mother. She had her eyes locked on his, a few tears coming out, and a sad smile on her face. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"My baby," she said. "I thought I lost you."

He opened his mouth, wanting desperately to tell her he loved her, how sorry he was to put her through this. His strength was still developing.

"Sam?" came Kyle's voice to the right. "Can you talk?"

Sam blinked and tried to speak again. After a few attempts, he managed to muster up enough breath:

"Yeah."

He saw his mother's eyes light up. He was surprised, too. Despite how weak he felt, the word came out stronger than he thought. It wasn't full strength, but not a raspy croak, either.

"How do you feel?" asked Kyle.

"Not too bad," said Sam weakly.

"What...happened?"

Jessica cleared her throat. "We followed you...me, John, and Kyle. We found Charlie's car and followed your footprints to that..._place_. We found out everything about it. It was another one of William Afton's places."

Sam couldn't help but flinch slightly at the name.

"What was it like?" Carlton spoke up, clearly interested. Given his experience in Circus Baby's restaurant, he was both curious and nervous to hear more.

"That was no haunted house," said John very seriously. "That place was hell on earth. In fact, I'd say that was way worse than anywhere we've been. My head still aches for all those brain waves." He gave a sorry look to Sam. "Not that it compares much to yours."

Sam still couldn't believe his eyes. The last thing he remembered, he was falling unconscious right as the building had presumably crashed down on top of him. The next thing he knew, he was here.

"How did you find me?" he asked.

"Kyle did," said Jessica. "After the fire started, John and I got out and used a flare gun to signal our location to Clay."

"Just in time, too," Clay spoke up from his position near the door. "I was beginning to worry I'd lost all four of you. Fortunately, I'd already called in the fire department when I saw the flare because I could see the smoke. Nasty fire it was, too. The chief said the coating of the wallpaper was extremely flammable and the entire wiring system was a mess. It's amazing that place didn't burn itself down after all these years."

"Is it still burning?" Kyle asked with a hint of guilt in his voice, obviously concerned about potential legal repercussions.

"Thankfully, no," said Clay with a smile. "I actually just got word from Chief Davis about ten minutes ago. They finally got it put out with little damage to the surrounding woods, which was probably our biggest concern with how out-of-the-way it was. Had it not been for that hidden road we found, I don't know what could've happened." He sighed and saw the look on Kyle's face. "Don't worry. From what you've told me, I don't blame you for doing something like that. Besides, I'm not really one to talk, either."

John and Jessica exchanged quick knowing glances. He was referring to Afton's underground pizzeria beneath Charlie's house.

"Anyway," Jessica continued. "Not too long after Clay got there, we heard this loud crash. A couple of minutes later, we saw Kyle limping toward us with you over his shoulders."

Sam turned to Kyle in astonishment. Kyle smiled and gave a small shrug. Sam glanced down at Kyle's legs and saw a cast on one of his ankles.

"What-?"

"That robot thing," said Kyle simply. "It got a hold of me, but I got lucky and managed to shake it off. It's gone now, too."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. With Nightmare's black, distorted face and taunting voice still fresh in his mind, he'd completely forgotten about the other animatronic-like creature that had originally been chasing him.

"So what was that place all about, anyway?" asked Carlton. "I mean, what was it doing there out in the middle of nowhere?"

John and Jessica gave each other worried looks. Wordlessly, they debated whether or not they should say, and who should be the one to do it.

"It wasn't a haunted house. Not really," John explained. "Afton built it to take kidnapped children there to mentally scar and torment them into seeing him as their savior."

Clay cleared his throat, laying out the scenario in his head. "You sure? It seems unlikely that he would've been able to get away with that for so long, unless-"

"He only actually used it on one person," said John, "but it didn't work, so he changed his tactics for the others."

"Who was it?" Clay asked, a pit in his stomach.

John sighed deeply. "Charlie."

Everyone turned and looked at him in surprise, especially Hannah. Sam breathed in so heavily that he had to fight the urge to start coughing.

"He had videos that he'd recorded. He-" John paused, voice breaking slightly. Sam watched him closely, waiting nervously for what he would say next.

"When he kidnapped Charlie as a kid, he took her to that horrible place and...tormented her, mentally. And then he-" He paused again with a heavy sigh. "He killed her."

Hannah gasped, her eyes teary and her hand on her mouth. Carlton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Clay looked at the floor sadly. Sam kept his gaze locked onto John's, who returned it.

"So...that's where she died?" asked Sam in a weak voice.

John nodded. For a moment, he and Sam continued staring into each other's eyes. To both of them, it felt like they were being soul-searched. Once again, John found himself feeling that comforting sense of trust. Although he was a different person, he was still Charlie's twin brother. Some people talked about twins sharing a certain bond. She had always mentioned how connected she felt to Sammy despite not seeing him for fifteen years and forgetting that he had even existed, as he had also forgotten about her over time. While Sam was still much more a stranger than Charlie, John couldn't shake the feeling of trust he previously shared with her. Being with Sam was probably one of the closest things comparable to being with Charlie, and John had no intention of letting that go.

Sam, likewise, remembered all-too-well how close John and Charlie were. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart as he remembered why he was there in the first place. He had been brought in by Clay in an attempt to find his sister. He remembered how he had immediately found himself in the welcoming company of her close friends, as though he were a source of familiarity and comfort in her absence. After that, he had repaid them by foolishly and impulsively running off in a solo attempt to find Charlie, leaving all of them behind. He had hurt them. He was unworthy to replace Charlie in their lives, even if he actually could.

_Nonsense_, came a voice in his head. _They love you_.

He glanced nervously around the room, eyes peeled for a familiar black demonic-looking face and glowing white eyes, but he saw no one. He tried to calm his nerves, but his breathing was still heavy. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" asked Kyle.

Sam turned to him. He was looking at his friend in the same concerned way he'd been countless times since they'd arrived.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but I...don't understand."

Kyle blinked. "What?"

"How-why did you save me?"

Kyle gave his friend a confused look. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?"

"But...what about what happened? Our conversation in that room?"

"What room?"

"That-room I was in when I-passed out," he stammered.

Kyle's confusion didn't subside. He gave a quick glance to John and Jessica, but they offered no help. He turned back.

"Sam...we never talked at all in that building."

Sam frowned, taken aback.

"We never-?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. After I finally got away from that..._thing_...and somehow ended up in that room, I was beginning to lose focus and thinking about a way out. That's when I heard you mumbling and started heading in your direction. I could hear your voice: it was definitely you, but I couldn't make out anything you were saying. It was just mumbling. By the time I finally found you, you were unconscious. That's when I got you outta there."

Sam studied his friend's face. Part of him suspected that it really was true, that the conversation had indeed happened, and that Kyle had a last-minute change of heart and was covering it up. It was certainly possible, yet something didn't quite add up.

As if reading his thoughts, John intervened:

"That place was no joke, Sam. We all experienced mind tricks in there, not to mention you probably inhaled more toxic smoke than any of us did."

Sam's brain registered John's voice, but his eyes never left Kyle.

"What about that loud crash I heard? I thought the building came down on me."

Kyle's face lightened. "Yeah, I thought so, too. I even flinched when it happened, it was so loud. Turns out one of the supports had tipped over and crashed through the wall." He paused, his eyes wandering to the wall above Sam's head in a somewhat mesmerized way. "It was so weird. I saw light coming through the wall and thought we both died for a second, but then I noticed it was the moon. The ceiling was making some cracking noises, so I figured that was our only shot." He scoffed, turning his gaze back to Sam. "I gotta admit, I don't think I've ever moved that fast in my life. If it weren't for you being on my shoulders, I probably looked like I was running from a spider."

Sam laughed, though his body protested with another small amount of pain. His mother eased him gently back down onto the bed.

"Thanks, Mom," he said. He turned to the rest of them. "And thank you guys for being there for me. I know it was stupid of me to run off on you like that. You didn't have to do that for me."

"Of course we did!" Jessica insisted, a little anger in her voice. She walked over to him and placed her hand on his. "We're your friends and family. We care about you, even if you don't care about yourself!"

Sam was shocked at hearing such a strong remark from her, but realized that she was right. He smiled at her and brushed his thumb against her knuckles, barely noticing his heart rate monitor beeping faster.

He heard a small chuckle from Kyle. Turning to him, Sam noticed a grin on his face and raised eyebrows. At first, Sam was tempted to acknowledge his friend's implication with a joke of his own, but there was something more important that he needed to say.

"I'm sorry," he said to Kyle. "Sorry about last night...or whenever it was. You know…" He gestured to his face with his good hand.

Kyle raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Don't worry about it. I'd probably be angry too if I'd just had a bombshell about my family dropped on me like that. Besides, it didn't even hurt that much. I've been punched a lot harder, remember?" He smiled, and Sam returned it, more thankful than ever for the young man he'd wisely called his best friend for nearly fifteen years.

A nurse entered the room carrying a pile of clothes that Sam recognized were his.

"Alright. Visiting hours are over," she told them. "It's time to let him rest."

"Thank you, nurse," said Clay as he helped Carlton onto his feet. "We were planning on leaving pretty soon, anyway. Didn't want to be a crowd. We'll see you in the morning, Sam. Come on, son." He gestured Carlton out the door, reaching for an arm, but Carlton brushed him off.

"Dad, I'm fine. I'm not the one in the hospital anymore."

Clay snorted and turned to Hannah. She looked at him, and then at Sam.

"May I please stay with my son for a little bit longer? I almost lost him," she asked the nurse in a shaky voice.

"Of course," she said. "By the way, here's the clothes you brought in. Just came out of the dryer."

"Thank you," said Hannah. The nurse smiled and set them on a nearby chair. There were jeans, a T-shirt, and his jacket folded up in a pile.

"I'll drop them off at the house, and then I'll swing by to pick you up," said Clay. "He'll be okay, Hannah. These doctors are the best that I know. He's in good hands, believe me."

Hannah nodded. One-by-one, they filed out of the room. John gave Sam a small pat on his shoulder on his way out. Kyle turned and gave Sam one last nod before disappearing out the door, leaving him alone with his mother.

Hannah reached over and ruffled his hair, smiling at him.

"I was worried sick about you," she told him.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry about yelling at you the other night, too. At Fredbear's, I mean."

"Actually," she said, setting her hands on her lap, "I'm glad you did. While the others were out looking for you, I had a rather interesting chat with Clay's son."

"What did you talk about?"

She sighed, her eyes beginning to water as she turned to gaze at the pink and orange sky.

"About his friend Michael, and how much he misses him, how talented he was." She paused, wiping one of her eyes with a thumb. "He then went on and on about Charlie, how much he liked her...how much _everyone_ liked her. How smart she was, how caring."

"Yeah," said Sam sadly, suddenly remembering how his sister was still unaccounted for. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Do you ever regret it? The two of us moving away?"

Hannah frowned. "To be honest, I don't know anymore. I haven't been sure of much since we've been back here." She sat in silence for a moment. "Yes, I guess I do, when I think about it. These are good people here. They care about one another, they understand each other. But then again…" She trailed off, giving it more thought. "...I'm not sure I would've been able to handle the stress of the children going missing, nor the heartache of seeing a replica of my daughter. Trust me, Sammy, it was a VERY painful to do, but I believe it was necessary. Even though we have been missing out on a good group of people, it just was not a smart thing to do to stay here. Your father, rest his soul, had become an incredibly unstable and dangerous man that you shouldn't have had any more exposure to." Her last words were brittle and forced, sounding like they pained her greatly as they left her lips.

_A dangerous man._ Sam thought back to one of the visions he'd seen in Fazbear's Fright. It was more than a vision, it was a memory, so he believed. He gulped as he remembered his father's psychotic glare after he'd struck him, his only son, in the face. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was Nightmare. Nightmare had been there, poisoning his father's mind, the same way Afton's mind had been poisoned, and how even his own mind had almost been as well. He felt a tear falling down his face as he remembered that unsettling look his father had given him.

"Mom," he said again, starting to feel like a broken record. "Do you think Dad missed us?"

Hannah sighed. "I'm sure he did, deep down. He was such a strong man, physically and emotionally. I'd never met a more caring, selfless, kind man in all my life, not to mention he was so extraordinarily talented!" She gave a sad laugh. "But he was always so humble as well. The day we met, he told me I had the most graceful artwork he'd ever seen. I still don't know how it happened, but we just clicked, you know?" She laughed again, although it was obviously a forced laugh. The tone of her voice revealed her sadness. "Sammy, the man we left all those years ago was not your father. I mean, it was...but it wasn't." Now she started to cry. "Though I've tried not to think about it too much all these years, I always hoped that he was still in there, that he was still alive and struggling somewhere in that empty shell he'd become."

Sam was about to say something else when a knocking at the door caused them to jump slightly. It was John, who looked out of breath.

"Sorry," he gasped, walking into the room and straightening up, trying his best to compose himself.

"John! What happened?" Hannah asked.

He walked over to the bed and continued catching his breath, looking between them with remorseful eyes.

"It's okay….Clay's waiting downstairs. I had to...tell him to...bring me back."

He continued breathing heavily for a few moments before he finally seemed to calm his breath.

"First of all, I need to apologize to both of you. It's really my fault that this happened." He looked Sam directly in the eyes, causing that mysterious sense of connection to return.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's my fault that you ran off and found yourself in that mess."

"John," said Hannah, "it's not-"

"Yes, it is," John insisted. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "You see, I found this at Aunt Jen's house when I went back there looking for answers. I think she meant to send it to you at some point, but could never track you down. I think it may be why she was always keeping so many documents. Anyway, I kept this so that I could hopefully give it to you one day." He turned back to Sam. "I wasn't expecting to meet you that same day. Sorry about that, by the way," he added, pointing to his head.

Sam remembered the moment the two of them met, an awkward moment that began with a mild but unexpected blow to the head.

"Anyway," John continued, "with how fast everything had happened since then, I completely forgot about it until...well...you were gone."

"John," said Hannah, "you don't have to apologize. You've been through a lot, lately. Whatever it is you forgot, I'm sure I would've done the same given the circumstances."

"I appreciate that, Ms. Anderson," said John apologetically, "but I still can't walk away without getting it off of my chest. It's been nagging at me ever since Sam left that night, and I don't want to waste another chance to give it to you."

"Well, what is it?" asked Hannah, reaching for the paper. "What was so important to give us?"

John handed it to her without a word and took a step back, which Sam couldn't help but notice.

Hannah unfolded it. It was a letter. As she began reading it, her mouth hung open and the occasional breath of astonishment would slip out. When she was about halfway through, her eyes began to water considerably. Sam glanced at John, who only looked back at him with a knowing look in his eyes. Sam turned back to his mother. She now had tears falling from her eyes. When she finally finished, she lowered the letter and looked off into the distance, letting out repressed sobs from behind her other hand.

"Mom?" Sam asked, clearly concerned. "What is it?"

She turned to him with her tear-soaked eyes and handed him the letter. He took it from her gently and, with an encouraging nod from John, began to read it.

_My Dearest Hannah,_

_ I've dreamt of you every night since you left. I've missed you terribly. I've longed to see your smiling face, your bright beaming eyes, your soft and gentle voice that stole my heart the day we met. I've longed to hold you again, to smell your sweet perfume, to tell you that everything is alright...that I'm alright. But I cannot fool myself any longer. Clearly I am _not _alright. I haven't been alright since that terrible night we lost our little Charlotte. From what Jen has told me before you left, you're handling it rather well, no doubt much better than I've been these last few years. I've worked tirelessly all this time to fulfill the promise I made to myself...and to my family...that Charlotte will live again, that she never left. _

_ But alas, all that promise has done is cause me to lose everything, including you and our son. My sanity has long since been damaged to the point of no return, as Jen has desperately pointed out countless times. The pain of our family breaking further apart has become unbearable. I suppose that deep down, I knew it was my fault, but I was still too blinded by deceptive goals and faulty determination to amend my mistakes by continuing my futile mission...until now._

_ I admit I have no idea what has brought me back from the brink of insanity now after all of this time, but I know with all of my heart that it is indeed an undeserved mercy that I can't even dream of being worthy of. However, I fear that this momentary return to sanity will not last long, which is why I'm writing this now. I will be giving this to Jenny as soon as I am finished. Though my hope is frail and extremely slim, I pray that somehow...by a miracle...this letter may eventually find its way to you._

_ Hannah, my love, my heart is burdened and heavy-laden beyond belief of the man I've allowed myself to become. I am certainly not the man you married all those years ago. I can still see your face at night, that look of terror you gave me before you left. How could I have been so blind? How could I have let our family fall apart so badly? You tried so hard to save me, but I couldn't be saved, not by you, not from this. I have absolutely nothing to offer you, but I beg that you will forgive me for what I have done. It was never your fault, though I made it seem so in my delirious mind. But one thing is still for certain: I love you, more than you can possibly imagine, and I hope that you have given our son a life of happiness._

_ And to you, my son Samuel: I can't imagine what you must think of me, a horrendous father who devoted all of his attention to the daughter he lost rather than the son he still had. Surely I am nothing but a distant memory to you by now. Maybe you even have a new father, someone who is willing to love you unconditionally and be the man I should have been. Perhaps, that is my true punishment, having to live with the emotional scars I have caused. I have nothing to offer you, either, but a heavy heart full of sorrow. My son, please forgive me for everything: the neglect, the abuse, and the time we've spent apart. Please forgive this pathetic excuse for a father! And if I may ask one thing of you: do not make my mistake. Do not allow your anger and grief to overcome you and destroy your life as it did to both me and my partner, whom I'm hoping is facing his judgment for his own crimes against humanity. As for me, I fear I have no hope of ever finding you to make things right in person, nor am I worthy of such a delight, so I pray that this message may find its way through. May you both stay safe, healthy, and strong. I love you both to the ends of the earth, and so let this be my goodbye._

_ Love always & to the end,_

_ Henry_

Sam looked up at his mother, who'd been silently watching him read. He didn't know what to say. The emotions simply couldn't translate into words. He tried to speak, but he was only able to manage a quivering lip and pained breaths. His mother held his gaze. Judging by the look on her face, she was feeling the same. They were both fighting to find the right words to break the ice. Nothing came to mind.

Finally, Sam could hold it no longer. Hannah reached down and pulled him into an embrace as the two of them broke down sobbing. It was the only thing either of them could do to express what could not in words.

Taking that as his cue, John quietly walked back into the hallway and towards the entrance. Once again, he berated himself for not giving them the letter sooner. He'd found it at Jen's house literally a few hours before Sam had arrived, yet he let his excitement and bewilderment over Sam's sudden appearance overshadow his judgment. How much pain and agony could he have spared Sam had he not completely forgotten about the letter sitting in his pocket?

But it didn't matter anymore. The one thing he'd come to learn after his month of self-imposed isolation was that what was done was done. Sam was okay, as was everyone else. William Afton's final link of influence in the world was destroyed, the children were all safe. Hopefully, the time for healing could finally begin for them all.

Clay was waiting patiently for him outside.

"Everything okay?" he asked as John climbed in.

"Yeah," John replied softly, gazing out at the sun finally dipping below the horizon as Clay began to pull forward. "Everything's okay, now." As they pulled out of the parking lot, John sighed. "Actually, Clay. There's something else, too."

"What?"

John turned and met Jessica's eyes. She was giving him that suspicious look again. Perhaps now wasn't the right time just yet.

"I'll tell you later."


	19. A Painful Reunion

**A/N:** In case you missed it, the previous chapter is also new; I posted them together, so don't forget to check that one out too if you haven't!

* * *

_The room was dark, save for the faint moonlight shining through the windows marking very distinct shapes on the ground. The air was fresh, certainly much fresher than he'd expected it to be since he was here last._

_The tables were clean and freshly stocked like they had just been bussed. But that didn't make sense...the place hadn't been used in over fifteen years. There weren't even tables anymore when he was here only days ago. _

Or was it weeks? Maybe months or even years? Come to think of it, the entire place looks clean, _he thought. _

_It didn't make sense. The windows were clear, the floor was swept, and the cash register was back on the bar. The cobwebs were gone, and from the kitchen came the faint smell of cooked food. He took a breath in and savored the aroma. It had been a while since he'd had anything from this place. As fancy and eloquent as the restaurants were in Chicago, nothing came close to the food he remembered eating here. _

_The stage was dark, though he could make out two large shapes standing on it. He took a cautious step toward the stage, part of him not wanting it to be real, another part of him hoping that it was. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breath was loud._

_When he approached the edge of the stage, the lights switched on one-by-one just like a broadway show. Standing on stage were two animatronics, their clean yellow fur glistening like gold in the light. With smooth movements, they looked at him with their eyes wide and robotic, making him sigh in relief. He was afraid of seeing those dead, sullen eyes again. _

_From the speakers above the stage, a familiar tune began to play and the robots began their dance number. It wasn't too complex: the rabbit moved its arms and legs in time with the music while the bear turned to address the rest of the crowd that wasn't there._

"_Tonight," it announced in its loud voice, "we have a special performance for a very special person!" _

_A loud cheer erupted from behind him causing him to jump. He turned around and was met with a large crowd that had appeared out of nowhere. He thought he recognized some of them, but they were standing too far away to make out behind the lights that had just turned on to illuminate the stage. He did, however, see a large sign that had been hung above them on the ceiling._

_WELCOME HOME, SAMMY!_

_Suddenly, two people stepped forward out of the crowd. One was a tall man, messy brown hair, and a green plaid flannel shirt that could be spotted a mile away. On his face was a large smile. The other was a young woman who appeared to be around his age and height. In fact, there was much more than that. She had the man's same brown hair. Her brown eyes were soft of loving and her smile was also wide on her face. She turned to Sam and beckoned his attention back toward the stage with her head. _

_He turned. Both of the animatronics were looking at him as they danced to one of his favorite tunes as a child, the one that always played throughout the day, and he never tired of. He felt his spirit rise within him as he lifted his arms to imitate the dance onstage._

"Sammy?"

His eyes shot open. He saw nothing but blackness around him. The room was dark. He shifted nervously when pain shot through his left arm causing him to cry out. He glanced to his right and noticed something looming over him in the darkness making him jump in surprise, but as he studied it, he recognized it as an IV bag.

That's when he remembered: _Oh, yeah. I'm in the hospital._ He rubbed his head. _Must've been dreaming, and was woken up by-_

His eyes went wide and he looked around in confusion. What had woken him up? It sounded like a voice of some kind, but it could've easily only been in the dream. After a few minutes, he yawned and let himself relax in the bed. Maybe it was the pain that had awoken him. It would be a rough night if that were the case, but he'd have to try to sleep as best as he could. He closed his eyes.

"Sammy!"

He resisted the urge to launch himself upward again as he opened his eyes once more. The room was still as dark and empty as before...or was it? As he studied the surroundings, he noticed that the chairs along the wall on the other side were growing clearer. Perhaps it was just his eyes adjusting to the darkness, but there was something else, a rather odd feeling. Odd...and pleasant, like a blanket had just enveloped him. He smiled. It felt strangely comforting.

And then, a silhouette formed in front of him. He blinked. Surely it had to be a trick of the eyes. Everyone always thought that they'd seen shapes in the darkness. It would always be gone when you blinked.

But it wasn't gone. If anything, it was becoming clearer. As he continued gazing dumbfoundedly at the silhouette in front of him, he noticed two more on either side taking shape. He moved back in his bed nervously.

_What's happening? What is this? Am I still going crazy?_

In a small flash, the silhouette in the middle began taking on colors and distinguishing features. It was a man, not too old, but definitely middle-aged. He was wearing what looked like jeans and a light shirt underneath a green plaid flannel shirt. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was perfectly straight. It was funny. Sam couldn't help but think that the man's hair would look better if it were messier.

His heart almost leaped out of his chest. It was the exact same man from his dream, only he looked even cleaner now and his face looked like it was glowing.

Sam thought back to the pictures he'd seen, and only one person came to mind.

"D-Dad?"

Henry smiled. "Hello, son."

Sam couldn't speak. He could only stare at his father standing before him. Part of him wanted to end the vision before it did anything further damage to his psychosis, but another part of him wanted to experience every minute of it.

The silhouette on the left also took on its full form. It was a woman who looked to be Henry's age. In fact, she looked very much like Henry. Her hair was dark, as were her eyes, yet that didn't prevent them from quenching the same glowing effect as Henry.

"Samuel, my dear. It's been a long time."

"Aunt Jen?"

She nodded.

Before he could ask what was going on, the final silhouette took shape to his right. He saw what looked to be combat boots, a pair of jeans with a white shirt and olive-green jacket, all of which were likewise cleaner than he'd ever thought possible. He saw shoulder-length brown hair, a thin mouth that looked like it was smiling, a round face, and two glistening brown eyes. Sam's jaw completely dropped. Could it really be-?

"Sammy!" she cried. "It's so good to see you! I've missed you terribly!"

Sam stared wide-eyed at his twin sister. At this point, he had no clue what was going on, if any of it was even real. He'd seen her, or so he thought, numerous times in that building, and each time it was nothing more than his own imagination. But this time, she really looked like she was there, exactly as John had described. He looked between the three of them, taking note of how they all looked like they were really there. Each of them continued looking back at him, smiling brightly and waiting for him to find his voice.

"What-? I don't-how are-?"

"Oh, dear. He's overwhelmed," said Aunt Jen. "Can't say I blame you. I'd probably be too in your shoes."

Sam looked back at Charlie. Her smile faltered slightly.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" she asked.

"I...don't know. I mean…" He paused. How on earth was he going to say this? He wanted to say it delicately, as though the wrong word would break the illusion he clearly was having, but he didn't know how to put it.

"Go ahead, son," said Henry. "You can say it."

"Are you...you know..._real_?" It still sounded wrong. He looked at Charlie.

Her bright smile immediately returned and she approached him. She reached out her hand and placed it on his. He gasped. What he had expected to be cold, if there even was any contact at all, was surprisingly warm. More importantly, it was there. He realized now that every time he thought he'd seen her in Fazbear's Fright, he never actually had any physical contact to validate. But now, here it was! He stared down at their hands in amazement before finally breaking into a smile of his own.

"It's really you?"

She nodded.

"Well, what are you doing here? How are you here?"

"It's complicated," said Aunt Jen. Sam looked to his father.

"We're here for a reason," he said simply.

Sam was taken aback. _What on earth does that mean?_

"I still don't understand. Are you actually..._alive_?"

"Yes and no," said Henry, a small flicker of sadness on his face. "We are alive...just not of _this_ world."

Sam let out a small gasp. He understood now.

"Well, why _are_ you here, then?"

"Because you need to know something," said Charlie, drawing her brother's attention back to her. When he did, Charlie gasped. He looked just like she remembered, only older. His hair was a little bit messier and he had more facial hair than before. _Of course_, she told herself. _What was I expecting, an exact replica of his childhood self? _The more she looked at him, the more she realized that he looked a bit like John. She wondered if he was as messy.

"What is it?" he asked.

Charlie shook. His voice had startled her. She'd forgotten what he'd asked before. "What's what?"

"What is it that you need to tell me?"

Charlie's smile did not cease. "That we're okay."

Sam looked back at his father and aunt once more, both of whom nodded at him. He turned back to his sister.

Charlie sighed. "You've been looking for me, hoping to find me out there somewhere, alive and well." She shook her head. "You won't. I'm gone, Sammy. I'm sorry." Her smile turned apologetic if she even was still smiling.

"We've _all_ been looking for you," said Sam. "Clay found me and brought me here, brought me back. Everyone's been worried sick about you."

"I know," she said sadly. "I miss them all: Marla, Carlton, Jessica and her excited talk about finding mummies."

Sam chuckled. _Yeah, that sounds like something Jessica would talk about._

"How are they?" Charlie asked, concerned. That was the one thing that almost prevented her from taking that final step at Aunt Jen's to ending her life.

"They're okay," said Sam, "except that they were worried about you."

"Were?"

"Well, we found your tombstone at the cemetery," Sam explained. "Yours and Dad's. So we kind of figured out it from there, or at least John did. I wasn't quite as sure."

"So you went off on your own? For me?" said Charlie, guilt oozing from her voice.

Sam nodded, making Charlie gasp in horror. She felt like crying as she thought back to her own adventures trying to find him: the twisted Freddy that ate her and took her to Afton's underground pizzeria beneath her father's house, the door in that room beneath her bedroom that she could've sworn at the time was her brother calling out to her. She knew better now. It was never about Sammy, at least not at the time. The true calling, mysterious as it was, did indeed lie beyond that door, but instead of her brother, it was a doppelganger of her that would unwittingly lead her to eventually make the fateful decision to sacrifice herself and put an end to the crude life she'd been living in exchange for something better. Still, she had worried so many of her friends by doing so, particularly John, and she couldn't help but feel a little selfish for venturing off on her own like that. And now here was her brother doing the same thing for her, but his quest was a different one with a different result, one that would continue to keep them separated for the time being.

"My brave boy," said Henry. "You've been so strong, but you're much like me...so determined to find what was lost that we lose ourselves along the way."

"Indeed," said Aunt Jen, struggling to hold back a smirk. "I always knew he'd inherited your hard head."

"Nonsense. That's strictly from his mother," Henry replied with a laugh.

Sam tried to laugh along, but his lungs were still struggling to handle the sudden appearance of three unexpected family members in his hospital room.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know," said Sam. He put a hand to his head. He was sweating profusely. "I've been through a lot lately."

"We know you have," said Aunt Jen. "You're lucky to be alive, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Sam miserably. "But I'm still here, like you are, right?" he added hopefully.

The three of them exchanged looks of concern.

"We're not staying long," said Charlie. "I wish we could, but we can't."

"Why not?" said Sam. "Surely there's something we can do! If you're still alive now, if you've been alive all this time…"

"Sammy, I don't have a body anymore," said Charlie. "Even before John burned it, it was irreversibly damaged by the blade, as I hoped. Trust me...there's no returning to that body, or any like it, for me now."

"But...why?" said Sam desperately. "Maybe it doesn't have to be like this! Dad did it before, maybe we can do it again! Maybe we can somehow create another body!"

"Sammy," said Aunt Jen.

"Why can't we do it? If this is real, if it really was Charlie the entire time, why can't we do it again?" Sam's adrenaline was pumping. He felt his chest beginning to tighten. He knew he was working himself up, which was highly ill-advised given his condition, but right now, he didn't care. If this was real, if his deceased family members were really standing in front of him now, if none of it was just his taxed brain causing visions, he wanted to go all the way.

There was silence amongst them. Jen frowned and shook her head. Henry sighed.

"It's not that easy, son," he said calmly. "It's much more complicated than that, more than anybody could have imagined."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it shouldn't have even worked in the first place." Henry hated seeing his son in such a desperate and mentally-vulnerable state. It reminded him of his own years wasting away in his madness. This was his chance to set things right. "When I created those dolls, I was hoping that my own skills could make it happen. But it never could. As much as I tried to deny it, deep down I knew that no amount of sheer mechanical engineering could ever bring back the dead. Even that early in the process, I was already deluding myself into thinking that I could be God and do the impossible, but I was wrong. I'm only human, like everyone else."

"But Charlie-!"

"I know," said Henry, giving a quick glance to his beloved daughter standing next to him. "I had the parts and remnants to make something lifelike, something that could imitate Charlotte in almost every way, but never _be_ her. All I can say is...what happened was an inexplicable miracle."

Sam shook his head, completely aghast at what he was hearing. "You-you're not saying that-Charlie actually was..._real_, are you?"

Charlie raised her eyebrows. Even though she knew what he meant, it came out sounding a little harsher than he intended.

"Yes...and no," said Henry. "She died the _dreadful_ night she was taken from us by my.._.despicable,_ _abominable_ _ex-partner_!" The sudden venom in his voice was startling. Aunt Jen winced. Henry sighed again, this time louder. "I'll never know how it happened exactly, but somehow, my Charlie continued to live." He turned again to Charlie. "Somehow she still found her way home and took a place inside the empty robotic shells I had created. Not even I knew what had happened." He gave a small laugh. "It's amazing. For four years, I continued laboring, hoping that I was making a difference with my creation, yet the whole time, the real difference was beyond my comprehension. My Charlie, dead in body yet still alive by a pure stroke of grace."

Sam looked at his sister, who was holding back tears.

"Is this true?" he asked, both anxious and afraid of the answer.

She nodded. "Elizabeth," she said in a low voice. "That day at Aunt Jen's: Elizabeth told me that I was special, that Dad had somehow gotten a part of himself into me, and that's what made me alive."

"Was it?" said Sam.

"Yes," said Charlie. "Although he was losing his mind and sanity, it was his undying love for me that brought me to life. It gave me a home, a temporary body, after my real one was killed."

"Temporary?"

"I never was meant to live forever," said Charlie. "Not like that. My body was made to look and act real, so real that it would be completely deceptive to everyone...including myself, but…" She closed her eyes, forcing herself to continue. "That wouldn't last forever. As Elizabeth bluntly informed me, I was the third of four robots planned. She was supposed to be me as an adult, but that's not what happened. As I grew up, I made each body a temporary home until I reached my final body. And I eventually did...just not in the way Dad thought." She gestured to her body.

When Sam said nothing, she continued.

"Dad created those robots to simulate a stage of life for me, hoping that I would one day spend the rest of my days in my fourth and final body, an adult version of me. Instead, Elizabeth stole that body from me. At first, I was angry, but…" She trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. "...then I realized that it was better this way. I wasn't supposed to still be here, in this world, as a fake person who only looked real."

Sam shook his head. Despite her detailed retelling of the events, he was becoming more confused by the second. "How do you know all of this?"

"When I died...the second time at Aunt Jen's with John...I became real once again!" she said brightly, her smile returning. "Sammy, I've never felt more alive, more happy, than I am now."

"But Charlie," Sam protested again, his desires still burning within. "You've been looking for me, haven't you? John says you were wanting to find me, too. Well...I'm _here!_"

Charlie felt her eyes begin to water. She remembered all of those moments with John, talking to him about her brother, how she felt like he'd been calling to her. It was completely true. She'd wanted to find him more than anything, to find her deceased twin brother, or so she believed. Never would she have possibly imagined that her brother was alive and well and that she was the one who was really dead, in a way. For the first time since she activated the suicide robot that officially took her life, she felt a strong, overwhelming feeling of regret. Had she only waited a little bit longer, she could have still been alive, somewhat, to be with Sam in person, to still be with all of them, to prevent the tears and anguish caused by her sudden death, and most importantly, to stop her brother from wandering into William Afton's final trap.

That was the worst part of it all. For well over a year, she'd believed that her brother had been Afton's first target. He wasn't, yet he still could've been. Even after his death, Afton had still almost managed to claim her brother after all. Her fists shook with rage, but as she caught Sam's eyes again, she calmed herself. She turned to her father, who smiled at her, then to Aunt Jen, who did the same. She turned back to Sam, the pain in his eyes almost unbearable for her.

"Sammy, I love you," she said, "and I would love nothing more than to be able to spend time with you and the others, but…" She shook her head. It was hard to explain. It was still hard to understand everything herself, but she had to try. "I've been alive as a fake for so long. I don't want to be fake anymore. That's why I knew I had to end it. Elizabeth and I were two creations of fake people who weren't supposed to be there in the first place, destined to never experience life the way we were supposed to, living souls trapped in robotic bodies that would never age the way they were supposed to." She scoffed. "It's funny. Before we died together..._again_...Elizabeth told me I was nothing more than an empty shell with no soul. I didn't get to know her all that well, but she seemed like the jealous, sarcastic type to me. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the soul she had herself, that poor little girl. I guess she really was made out of Dad's rage as she said, so much so that she was blinded to what truly made me so 'special' and 'unique' in the first place: my soul, trapped in a crude body, but still there, suffering from the limited memories and humanities of my fake self."

She gazed longingly into her brother's eyes once more. She could see the hurt in them. It was the same hurt that she remembered seeing in the seconds before he was taken by Afton all those years ago. It was all so clear now. Without the limitations and faults of her robotic body to blur her memories, everything was as clear as day. She only wished it could have been while she was alive. Tears began to pour from her eyes.

"I know you want me with you," she explained, "but it's better this way. I'm tired of being a fake person living in a body that looked real but wasn't. No one is supposed to live like that. As soon as I realized that it was true, I knew what I had to do. I had to end it, the masquerade, so I could be real again, to be in Daddy's arms as an actual daughter."

Henry walked over and took Charlie in his arms. "Oh, my baby girl," he said softly, patting her head as she hugged him back, sobbing into his chest. "You've been so brave, so strong. I can't even begin to imagine what I would've done if I'd realized that you really were still with me the entire time. If I had only known, I-"

His eyes widened. He turned to Sam, who was watching them with wanting eyes. He, too, began to sob, reaching down and touching his son's face. "Samuel, forgive me. I've been a horrible father. I don't blame your mother for taking you away. Your life was much better without all of this to deal with."

"Dad," said Sam. "Don't say that. I love you, and Mom does, too. We forgive you. But…" He froze. The next question was the hard one. He felt the impulse to hold it back, keep it hidden inside and not ruin the tender moment, but it had to be asked. "Why? If you really miss us and wrote that letter, why didn't you try to find us yourself? Why did you kill yourself?"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Aunt Jen shift closer. He noticed that her eyes had a disturbed look in them.

Henry shook his head and sat down on the bed next to his son. "That, my boy, was my final mistake."

Aunt Jen reached over and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"I've been foolish for so long," he explained, still choking back sobs. "I've made so many horrible mistakes, even before I met your mother. The truth is, son, your father is not the infallible man you thought him to be, and you saw that for yourself before you left with your mother. I wanted nothing more than to be a good man, and a good father, but when Charlotte was taken, I ended up going down the exact same road as my partner, who's now in hell for his own crimes. To be honest, I have no idea why I've been spared such a fate. Perhaps God had a better use for me." He managed a small, pitiful smile that lasted only a few seconds. "I've been a fool for many years, doing whatever I could to make myself somebody, somebody who could bring joy to people, but when it really got to the heart of the matter, I was unwilling to see what I already had in front of me: a good life, a wife and son who still loved me, a good sister. And that stubbornness followed me all the way to the end." His face turned sour as his eyes continued pouring out tears. He looked more anguished than ever. "I became so unsure of everything. One minute, I was convinced that putting an end to my suffering was the only option. But as I stood staring at the contraption I'd created to do just that, I-I saw your face, and your mother's, and I thought to myself, 'What am I doing? This is wrong. I can't do this.' But before I could stop it, it was over." He finished by thrusting an imaginary knife straight into his chest.

Sam stared horrified at his father as he struggled to hold back tears himself. To hear such an emotional and agonizing confession from the man who'd always been so joyful, so confident, so seemingly _perfect _in every way...it was heartbreaking, yet not surprising. In a flash of realization, Sam's fists clenched in rage. It was Nightmare. Nightmare, that real yet delusive being that showed up looking to ravish and destroy, had taken his father from him, as well as his sister by means of William Afton, and almost himself, too. If it weren't for Nightmare's lies and manipulations, Charlie and Henry might both still be alive today, and they could all still be together as a healthy, normal family. Instead, they were reduced to a broken, barely-functional image of their former glory. His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp stab of pain in his chest, making him realize he'd apparently started physically shaking in his anger. The concerned looks of his family confirmed this.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Sam. "I mean, no I'm not fine, but…" He knew he had to calm his breathing. His mother would kill him if he put himself at further risk simply by working himself up. He looked up at his father. They locked tear-soaked eyes.

"Dad...we forgive you, Mom and I," he said, forcing a smile even though he did not feel like doing so.

Henry gasped and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "After all of these years, I am finally at peace. My burden is lifted." He reached down and ruffled his son's hair, his own smile finally returning to his face. "You're a much stronger man than I was, Sammy, and you've got a blessed life ahead of you full of wonderful people. Don't ever take them for granted."

"I won't," said Sam told his father.

"Attaboy," he said with a wink.

Aunt Jen placed a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"It's time, Henry," she said, and he nodded. Sam gasped.

"Wait, you're leaving? Now?"

"I'm afraid so," said Aunt Jen. "Our time has come."

"Your _time_?" Sam repeated, unsure whether or not he'd heard right.

Aunt Jen nodded and smiled, the same smile she gave him the last time he saw all those years ago when he and his mother left. "It's been so great to see you again, Sammy, but we have to go."

Sam turned to his father. "W-why?"

Henry chuckled, though his eyes were still watering. "Son, as much as we would love to stay, we can't. Like I said, we were sent to assure you that we're okay. Now that we've done that, it's time to say goodbye for now."

Heartbroken, Sam looked to his sister. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course!" she said brightly, breaking into a wide grin once more.

"You all will," said Henry. "You and the others have fought hard to right the wrongs of the past, including your friend Kyle, but you've done all that you can. This chapter of your lives is over. It's time for you to do what I didn't do and move on, to keep living life the way you're meant to until the day comes when we meet again."

"I know, but it's just…" Sam broke off, struggling once again to find the right words. "It's been a long week, a long sixteen years! I never thought I'd ever see any of you again! Why does this visit have to be so short? Can't you stay a little longer? The others would love to see you, too!"

"We would love to," said Aunt Jen, "but we can't. Our time has come. We'll see you soon, Sammy." She smiled and reached out for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before fading away.

"Goodbye, son," said Henry, patting Sam's shoulder, "and tell your mother I love her." Within a few seconds, he too was gone.

Sam turned to Charlie once more. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out of it.

"Do you remember this?"

Sam peered at the small object in her hand. It was round and flat, like a pocket watch or a pendant. She brought it closer, and he saw that it looked old and rusted, yet in a stable condition. He shook his head.

"No. What is it?"

"This was Dad's old pocket watch his grandfather gave him," she said. "That day at Aunt Jen's, before I died, John and I found a box of Dad's old stuff. We found a letter that he wrote to Aunt Jen and his jacket. This was in the pocket."

She opened it. Sam looked inside, expecting to see motionless hands frozen in time behind smashed glass, but instead, he saw a picture of himself and Charlie as young children. They were hugging each other and laughing. He had on a pair of blue bunny ears and had a funny look on his face like he was pretending to be a monster bunny trying to eat her while she was attempting to reach up and take the bunny ears off of his head.

But that wasn't all. Beneath that was an engraving etched in the metal. It said in fine cursive handwriting:

_NO GREATER LOVE THERE BE _

_THAN A FATHER AND HIS CHILDREN SEE._

Sam studied it. There were a few scratches on the glass protecting the picture, and the outer rim looked slightly bent out of shape and rusted, but otherwise, it looked well-preserved. He began to wonder how long his father had stared at it longingly after his life fell apart, but he quickly shook those thoughts away.

"I want you to have it," said Charlie, closing it. "That's what Dad would want."

"Are you sure?" asked Sam. "I mean, you spent more time with him than I did."

"True," said Charlie, "but then again, I'm not the one who really needs it. You are." She walked over to where his clothes sat on a nearby chair, still neatly stacked. She placed it inside one of his jacket pockets. "It can be a reminder to you whenever you feel lost. Maybe you can give it to your own kids someday!"

Sam scoffed. "I've had some bad luck with dating, to be honest. I don't really think that's gonna happen."

"That's not true, Sammy! There are plenty of people out there who will appreciate the caring and courageous person that you are! I know Jessica certainly does! As embarrassing as it was, we talked about boys quite a bit when we shared a dorm."

Sam thought back to all of the interactions he and Jessica had together. Although he always dismissed it as compassion grief-stricken emotions about losing someone close, there was a deeper feeling that he felt with her. It was similar to the one he had with John but different. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he did genuinely enjoy seeing her happy, knowing that his sheer presence made her happy. It had been a few years now since his last misadventure on this road. Could it really be likely?

Charlie sighed. "Well, I'd love to stay longer, but I have to go."

Sam's face fell once more, but if everything he'd heard was true, he knew deep down that it probably was for the best.

"Charlie?" he asked, feeling a bit embarrassed to be asking.

"Hmm?"

"Were you there with me in that burning building?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"When I almost died in that fire, after I'd already passed out, I heard a voice tell me that everything would be alright. Call me crazy, but it sounded like your voice."

She stared at him for a second and broke into another smile.

"I'll leave that for you to decide," she said teasingly. "You can tell me what you think when we see each other again." She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a strong embrace. Ignoring the pain, Sam wrapped both of his arms around her back and returned the hug. He felt his ribs crying out in pain, but he didn't care. After everything he'd been through, all of the illusions and mental strains, he was finally seeing and holding his sister alive and in the flesh, or so he hoped. He didn't want to let go, but as if his own body was acting against him, he released her and she stepped back.

"Goodbye, Sammy! I love you!" she said with a wave as the blurriness began to take hold. "Tell everyone else I said hello!" she added with a slight echo to her voice.

He reached out his hand after her, desperate to hold onto her, to keep her here with him as a reassurance that this was all real and not just some elusive dream created by his taxed brain. But just like with the others, she was gone within seconds, and before he had time to register her absence, he felt himself slipping back into dreamy blackness.


	20. One Last Goodbye

**A/N:** It's finally here! The end of the story has arrived. There's not much to say now, so I'll see you at the end. Happy reading!

* * *

"Sam?"

He grunted and shifted his head.

"Sam? You awake?"

He felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"What?" he groaned in response.

There was a chuckle that he recognized to be Kyle's. "You sound like you have to get up for work on a Monday."

_Monday. Work._ His eyes shot open and he forced himself up in his bed quickly, too quickly, and his body once again protested against the action, though noticeably less than before. As Kyle eased him back down onto the mattress, he looked around the room and remembered where he was.

"I was just kidding," said Kyle, grinning. "I didn't mean to actually scare you. You just looked so peaceful in your sleep, I couldn't resist."

"Right," said Sam. "Remind me to punch you in the shoulder when I get my strength back."

Kyle laughed. "It's good to have you back, man. I was worried about you last night."

"Don't be. I'm okay...now," said Sam with a smile of his own. He glanced around and noticed that they were alone. "Where's everybody else?"

"We're here," said Clay, walking in with John behind him. "_Somebody _was in such a rush to get here that he ran into two people on the way." He shot an annoyed look at Kyle, who shrugged.

"Accidentally. Besides, only two's a record for me," he said defensively. Clay's irritated expression did not soften. "I'm sorry. I was anxious to see how he was."

Clay sighed. "Well, be a little more careful next time. I had to pull some strings to get us to stay as long as we did yesterday and they don't appreciate recklessness in the halls."

John approached the bed. "How're you feeling today, Sammy?"

Sam opened his mouth, about to say the typical answer of "Fine," but something stopped him. He thought back to seeing his father, sister, and aunt, an event that seemed so real, but could easily have been nothing more than a dream or hallucination given the circumstances. _Should I tell him? Should I tell the rest of them? What would they say?_

"I'm okay," he finally said. "I'm feeling better. Really."

John frowned. "You sure? You look like you didn't sleep that well."

"Yeah, I…" He hesitated. He could still clearly see his sister's smiling face, the way her cheeks expanded when she did so and her eyes lit up in pure joy at seeing her brother alive and well. He wondered if he looked the same to her, if any of it was even real. "I think I'm okay."

John frowned. Sam was about to continue when a new figure walked in. She was wearing a turquoise blouse with a matching skirt and a face bubbling with glee. As soon as she saw Sam in the bed, she broke into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen. John saw her and stepped back.

With a loud squeal of delight, she ran forward and threw herself upon Sam, wrapping him in a strong hug. Sam looked around at the others horrified. John and Clay were smirking while Kyle was trying his best to avoid doubling over in laughter. Clay stepped forward and gave the woman a tap on the shoulder.

"Easy, Marla. He's still healing, you know."

"Oh, right!" she said, releasing her vice-like grip on him. He fought the urge to cough, not wanting to seem rude. "I'm sorry, but I've been looking forward to this all week, ever since I got the call from Clay. It's so good to see you!"

Despite his initial concerns, Sam couldn't help but smile. Obviously, this was another one of Charlie's friends, and a very energetic one at that. Just by looking at her, he could feel her happiness and enthusiasm oozing off of her like a contagious virus.

"H-hi," he said nervously, completely unsure of what to say.

"Hello!" she said, beaming. "You look tired. Did you just wake up? I'm Marla, by the way."

"Sam."

"Yes, I've heard! I got in late last night and met your mom. Jessica's told me so much about you!"

With the mention of her name, Sam looked around and suddenly noticed that Jessica was absent. "Where is Jessica?"

"I'm here," she said, walking in as she and Hannah were helping Carlton.

"Really, I'm okay!" he protested. "We're here now, anyway."

"Yeah, well, you still technically shouldn't be out and about too much," said Jessica.

"Ok, Mom," said Carlton, turning to Sam. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he said.

"You look like you didn't sleep well," said Hannah. She placed her hand to his forehead to feel for a fever. "You seem better, though."

"He looks hot," said Marla, examining him as well.

"It's April in Utah," said Sam. "I'm still not used to the heat."

"Are you sure?" his mother asked.

Sam paused again. The look in her eyes was troubling. He knew from the years growing up that he wouldn't be able to get away with dodging her suspicions much longer.

"Well, actually...I think I saw Charlie last night."

The room went dead silent. Kyle and Carlton had been chatting about something in the background. They both went silent at the mention of her. Everyone was staring at him wide-eyed.

"You what?" asked Jessica.

"I don't know. It was late in the night, it was dark. I was dreaming about Fredbear's and then I was woken up for some reason...or at least I think I was. It was a blur. I can't even remember everything that happened, but...I saw Charlie. She was standing right there." He pointed to where John was near his bed.

"You _saw_ her?" asked Kyle, convinced he wasn't hearing correctly. "She was actually standing here?"

"I think so." Sam turned to his mother. "I saw Dad, too."

Hannah's mouth hung open slightly. She looked like she was going to say something, but she remained silent and kept her eyes locked on her son.

"What did he say?" she said, her voice turning cold.

"He said that he's sorry...for everything." Sam blushed in embarrassment as he felt the words leave his lips. _Is that really the best way to say it? That he's sorry for everything?_ Words couldn't describe the emotions that had flowed. The only way to understand was to actually be there.

She watched her son for a few moments. As he looked into his mother's eyes, Sam was certain he saw a glimmer of hope trying to peek through mountains of doubt.

"And Charlie?" Jessica asked.

"She's okay," said Sam, trying his best to sound certain. He hated that his post-trauma injuries were hindering his credibility, even to himself. He still couldn't tell if it was even real, or if he even wanted it to be. Would he rather believe that she was okay but separated or that it was a residual hallucination which meant that her whereabouts were still a mystery?

The concerned and anxious faces around him made him realize that he had zoned out again.

"She said that she's with my dad, now. You know…" He looked up at the ceiling. "She's at peace, happy to finally be real and not a robot anymore, and that we'll all see her again...someday."

No one said a word. The only noise in the room was the faint humming of the air conditioning unit near the window and Marla's breathing. Jessica and Clay exchanged questioning glances. Kyle stared at his friend with eyebrows raised. Carlton was looking out the window up at the sky as though he might see Charlie there.

"And you're sure you saw her?" said Clay finally.

Sam scoffed. "I think so."

"What did she look like?" John asked.

Sam turned to him. "Just like you described. Warm, smiling, glowing."

John said nothing, though his mouth was hinged open slightly. His eyes were wide in disbelief. Jessica kept looking back and forth between them, completely flabbergasted, waiting for someone to confirm the reality.

"Sammy, are you sure you weren't just dreaming?" Hannah asked her son.

"I...I don't know," said Sam. He rubbed his head, massaging his temple. "It was late, and I remember drifting off to sleep again right after."

"Sam, your brain's been through a lot," said Clay calmly. "As much as we would like for it to be true, I don't think we can validate anything just based on that."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know." He looked at John, who was still staring at him wordlessly. There was a look in his eyes that Sam couldn't quite discern. Was it doubt or belief?

"So, what's going on here, anyway?" Sam asked, looking back around the room.

Clay turned and closed the door. "Well, given the circumstances, I decided to organize a private gathering at the cemetery tomorrow. Just for us, so that we may officially say goodbye to Charlie."

Marla let out a choked, desperate sound. The look on her face clearly gave away the fact that she was still struggling to accept the news about Charlie. Jessica gave a nervous look to Clay. Sam could only imagine how the conversation with Marla went.

"Well," said Marla. "I, for one, am not at all happy that I came back to such sad circumstances, but I guess there's no denying at this point that Charlie's really not coming back, so I guess I'll just have to accept it." Her voice began to break during the final words.

"Did Jason come with you?" Jessica asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he did," said Marla. "I wasn't sure about bringing him at first, but he insisted that he come along."

"Really?" said Carlton, amazed. "I would've thought that seeing someone be dragged away by a giant rabbit would've been enough to keep me away for good."

"Yeah, I thought so, too," said Marla, "but he insisted. It took some arguing, but I finally convinced my mom that it was important enough for both of us. He's in the car now. He doesn't really like hospitals that much."

"I don't blame him," said Jessica. "I mean, look at us. We've spent more time in hospitals lately than we ever have before. It's always bad news, not that it wasn't already bad news to be in a hospital anyway, but you know…"

John and Marla nodded in agreement.

"Well Sam, I ran into your doctor on the way up," Clay announced with a smile. "Good news: you'll be able to leave sometime later today. They just need to run a few more tests to make sure that you're healing properly, which it looks like you are."

Sam glanced down at his own body. He was right. The exhaustion and overall achiness he'd felt last night seemed to be leaving quickly. He felt stronger than he had in quite a while, right before his near-death encounter with the tree that destroyed Charlie's car.

_Her car._

He remembered that fateful moment when he nearly killed himself. He'd been travelling in what he was certain was the direction of Henry's old house only to later discover just how wrong he was. In a flash of lightning, his world was turned upside down and he crashed what once was Charlie's car into a tree, dangerously close to Fazbear's Fright. He briefly wondered whether or not Charlie knew about her car. She probably wouldn't care at this point, as long as he was okay, but he still couldn't help but wonder. He felt the shame of leaving everyone behind the way he did rising up within him again, but he pushed it out. _No_, he told himself firmly._ Not right now._

"Oh, and by the way," said Kyle, holding something in his hand. Sam was pulled once more from his thoughts. It was his journal. "I forgot to mention that we found this in Charlie's car." Kyle placed it on the table near the bed.

Sam blinked in amazement. In all of the confusion, he'd also completely forgotten about the notebook in which he'd always written down his thoughts. He looked up and gave his friend a questioning look. Kyle grinned.

"Don't worry. I didn't read any of it. I know how much you value your privacy."

Sam nodded, taking the small notebook in his hand. "Thanks."

"Well..." Clay went on, but he was interrupted by footsteps approaching the room outside. A few seconds later, a young man, early teens, appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a black shirt and brown shorts. His face was round and his hair was long enough to nearly cover an eye. Marla stared at him, eyes wide in shock and anger.

"I thought you were waiting in the car?!" she said.

"I got bored," he replied, entering the room. "I may not like hospitals, but at least they aren't a million degrees."

Marla rolled her eyes and turned back to Sam. "This is Jason, my half brother," she said, gesturing to the new face.

"Remember us?" asked Carlton with a smile. Jason feigned an insulted face.

"How can I possibly forget?" he said.

"I wasn't sure about bringing him along," said Marla guiltily. "When I informed my mother that I was coming back, Jason overheard and said he wanted to come along, too."

"'Cause I wanted to come! I liked Charlie. She was nice. Besides, I was there, too!"

"Well, even without telling her the full story of what happened, Mom was still pretty nervous after we came home last time," Marla told him. "She didn't even want me coming back last month, either."

"I'm not a little kid!" Jason protested. "I'm thirteen. I'm practically a man, now!" He puffed out his chest.

"Sure you are," said Marla, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, big guy," said John with a small smirk. "This is Charlie's brother, Sam."

"What happened to your arm?" asked Jason as he shook Sam's right hand.

"I, uh, got into a little accident," said Sam, shrugging as if to say _it happens_. Jason kept staring at him, obviously wanting him to go on. Sam couldn't help but wince a little bit. It reminded him of some of Kyle's probings for more information.

"He's been through a rough time," said John, "trying to find Charlie and all."

"Where is Charlie?" Jason asked, looking around. The others all exchanged nervous glances. Marla hadn't broken the news to him yet.

"I'll tell you in a bit, assuming you can keep a secret," said Marla in a dangerously low voice. Jason looked up at his sister as though she were psychotic.

Before anyone could say anything else, the doctor entered the room.

"Oh, I see someone's well-liked," he said, squeezing his way through all of the guests over to Sam's bed. "Well, son, I don't know if the chief informed you yet, but I think you're ready to go home soon."

"Thank goodness," said Hannah. "How long until he fully recovers?"

"At this rate, I'd say a week. Nothing too extraneous in the meantime," he told Sam while writing something on his clipboard. "I see you already have your clothes here," he added, noticing the pile nearby. "We just have to run a few more tests, and you'll be good to go!"

"Great. Thanks, doc," said Clay, clearing his throat and gesturing the others out. "We'll see you in a bit, Sam." One-by-one, they filed out of the room, with Jason whispering something to his sister. His mother gave him a smile as she left, leaving Sam staring out the window at the bright golden sky topping the mountains in the distance.

* * *

_April 17, 1999_

_My head hurts. My body hurts. My arm hurts._

_ It's been almost eight hours since I left the hospital, and I can't stop thinking about Charlie and Dad, what they said to me, and more importantly, if it was even real. It seemed so real. It felt real, too. _

_ We're going to see the graves again tomorrow. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I know we have to do something to say goodbye, but I don't want to lose myself again. I'm worried that seeing those tombstones again might restart this whole process. After all, my descent into madness didn't start in that cursed building, it started there in the cemetery. Is that what depression is? Being thrown through a vicious, unending cycle that always ends with you thinking that you've found the way out only to have it be false hope? If that's the case, I can see why some people hate hope. Still...what if there's more to it?_

_ I also can't stop thinking about what happened to me. I've always done my best to be someone reliable and level-headed; you'd have to be when you're friends with someone like Kyle Jackson. Now, I'm looking back to what Mom said about anger. Granted, she should know because she's seen it before. How could I have lost myself so easily like that? I know it's wrong, but at the time, it just felt so right. Poor Kyle. Looks like I'm really the one unworthy of our friendship after that hit I gave him. I still can't believe that Kyle saved me after I thought I was done for. That final hallucination of him looked so real I was sure I was as good as dead. Nightmare really did a number on me that night._

_ And that's what still terrifies me the most after all of this: Nightmare. Is it really true that Nightmare is a part of me? I hope not. Maybe it was just the emotions getting the better of me, taking over my sanity. Still, I did start seeing Nightmare long before finding that place. For as long as I live, I will never forget that face. In fact, I'm nervous about sleeping in that guest bed again tonight. That's when I first saw Nightmare in my dreams. The silhouette behind Afton in the suit...I'll never forget that vision. _

_ William Afton: although I've never met him in person...at least not recently...I'm not sure I see him in the same light anymore, either. He looked so happy, so peaceful, so content in that old picture with his wife. He could've been a great man who did many great things had it not been for his loss. That's the most amazing part of all of this. What happened to Afton could've happened to any of us, and for some of us, it did. I think we've been looking at Afton all wrong. He wasn't just born a murderous lunatic, he only became one when he lost something dear to him. And Dad...I saw his own anguish first-hand. They both died, one saved by a stroke of grace in a last-minute return to sanity, the other facing a fiery death. As for me? I don't know how I was fortunate enough to find someone to call my best friend who would go to such great lengths to save me. I'm still here because of the courage and loyalty of Kyle Jackson._

_ It's certainly been a long, emotional week. I don't know how long it'll take me to recover from this, if I ever do, but I guess all I can do is hope. Hope and move on living life as I should be like Dad said. I want to make him proud, to show him that his son, Sam Emily, will carry on his loving personality and artistic legacy and in any way that he can, wherever my road may lead. I don't know how painful it'll be along the way, but I have to try. _

_ I have to move on._

* * *

_ The Following Day..._

Sam carefully stepped out of the back seat of Clay's car, trying his best to prevent his arm's sling from catching on the door. Kyle was right behind him, guiding him slowly onto the curb. Clay extended a hand to Hannah to help her out of the passenger seat.

"Well," said Clay. "Here we are once again." He glanced at the clouds. "I was hoping it would be brighter today, but unfortunately, April has the tendency to do that. It's not supposed to rain, though." He turned to Sam and Hannah. "Are you guys okay?"

They both nodded.

"It feels weird being back here," said Kyle. "You know, 'cause last time we were here-" He glanced nervously at Sam, who only looked back at him with a neutral face. It wasn't as bad as his warning face, but still enough to leave an impression. "Well, it's just strange to be back here again. That's all. So, are they coming?"

"Yes. They'll be right along," said Clay, glancing at his watch. Earlier that morning, he had brought the three of them along to the station so that they could answer a few more questions to help officially close the case on Charlie and testify to the recent events. Now they were waiting for the others to meet them.

"Sam? Are you okay, hon?" Hannah asked.

Sam blinked and looked up. He realized that he'd been staring absent-mindedly at the ground. His mind was in a complete fog. He was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened recently. Although he tried desperately to tell himself that nothing in that cursed building was real, he still couldn't help but feel that dark presence looming over him, that dark smiling face and those intimidating bright eyes that could see right through his every attempt to defend himself. And that laugh. He still could hear it in his head. Ever since he first woke up in the hospital, he'd been afraid of being alone simply because of the silence. He feared that the silence would be an open door for that voice to come back.

_Nightmare._

Was it true? Was Nightmare really a part of him? Why did it only emerge now after all of these years? According to John, the building had been designed to specifically do that: personify and make real their fears and blur the line between what was real and what wasn't. Still, it unnerved him to think that the voice he'd been arguing with prior to those experiences, the one he'd assumed had been his own subconscious, may have actually been Nightmare all along.

_No,_ he told himself. _Nightmare's gone. It's over. Even if it's true that he...or_ it..._is a part of me, it was only that building that made it so real. I just need to move on. Besides, Nightmare was wrong about Kyle abandoning me. It was all a lie._

"Yeah," he finally said. "I'm okay. Just...tired."

It was true. He wasn't sure how much was caused by the near-death experience from the smoke and how much the mind games took a toll on his body, but he certainly was tired. He'd probably have to take a good week off from work and band rehearsals when he got home.

_Home. _It seemed like so long ago now that he'd been home. For a brief moment, he'd completely forgotten where he even lived. With everything that had happened since he'd arrived, he'd very quickly become accustomed to Hurricane and the people here.

_They're my friends, now, too, _he thought. _They're not just Charlie's friends, anymore. They're mine now as well._

He looked up at Clay, who was talking with his mother about something that he wasn't paying attention to. He remembered when Clay first knocked on their apartment door out of the blue six days ago (or maybe it was seven; time had become a blur). At that point, Clay was the sole link to his childhood world apart from his mother, a link that would soon connect with the others: Carlton, John, and especially Jessica. Despite being a complete stranger to them all, he'd been accepted by them gladly. He remembered the ride over to Fredbear's with John, the one whom his sister had been the closest to. He remembered Jessica showing him around town and opening herself up to him. It had been only days since they had met, and yet his heart began to ache at the thought of leaving them in only a few short hours. Granted, he still had Kyle, and hopefully always would, but he still couldn't help but feel like there would always be something missing without the others.

And then there was his sister. His mind flashed back to her words from the hospital, words that he still couldn't distinguish as being a real glimmer of hope or the vain words of a dream:

"_I've never felt more alive, more happy, than I am now."_

A small tear began to fall from his eye. After everything, she was still gone. His sister, the one whom he'd come here and then found himself trapped in a hellhouse to try to find, was officially gone. There was no denying it. Charlie really was gone, and no amount of wishing she was still here was going to change that fact.

The sound of tires pulled him from his thoughts. Two more cars had pulled up: John and Carlton stepped out of one, both wearing dress shirts and khakis, and Jessica, Marla, and Jason from the other. Jason was wearing a plain white shirt and jeans while the girls both had on dresses. Marla was carrying a bouquet of flowers, and John had in his arms a small metal box. They all gathered in the middle.

"Sorry we're late," said Marla. "Somebody was still sleeping when I got out of my shower."

Jason shrugged. "Clay has a comfy couch."

Marla glared at him.

"Anyway," said Clay, clearly hoping to avoid any drama. "The important thing is we're all here to share this moment together. Well...at least most of us."

"Most of us?" Jessica repeated, stunned. "What do you mean? Who else is coming?"

"Well, Jessica, when you made your call to Marla, I made a little long-distance call of my own. Another one of my leaps of faith." He gave Hannah a small smile before turning to the road. "Ah, here he is now. Wasn't sure he'd make it on time."

A fourth car pulled up. It was another police car. Jessica and John exchanged confused looks. Marla frowned.

"Who is that?"

"You'll see…" said Clay, beaming. The driver stepped out of the car in uniform. "I had one of my officers pick him up."

"Pick him up?" said Jessica.

Out of the passenger side door stepped a young man, elegant, dark skin, wearing the same exact suit he wore for Michael Brooks' scholarship memorial.

"L-Lamar?" Jessica stood there, stunned.

Marla immediately ran toward him and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. He chuckled and patted her back.

"Hello to you, too," he said in his usual, good-mannered voice. They rejoined the others. "Am I late?"

"Not at all," said Clay.

"Good," said Lamar, looking around at the familiar faces, one of which stuck out to him immediately.

"Hey, Jessica. How are you?"

Jessica didn't realize that her bewilderment was apparently etched on her face plain as day.

"I'm fine...better now. Whatever happened to never, ever, ever setting foot in this town again for as long as you live?" she asked with a smile.

Lamar shrugged. "For Charlie...I can make an exception."

Jessica shook her head in disbelief as she, too, walked over to give him a hug.

"Hey, Carlton. Still sitting on your throne as the king prankster?" he asked.

"Nah. Not so much lately," said Carlton. "Still healing, but I'm better."

"Good to hear," said Lamar, turning to John. "How are you, John?"

John shrugged. "I could be better."

"Hey, it could be worse," said Lamar seriously, maintaining close eye contact. "At least we're all here now."

"Yeah," said John. "_Almost _all of us."

Lamar nodded and finally made his way over to Sam.

"You must be Sam," he said in a very business-like manner. Sam nodded, unsure of what to say. He'd heard the others mention Lamar, but he didn't think that he would be so...sophisticated, being dressed in a fine suit like that. It almost made Sam feel ashamed to be wearing nothing but the clothes that his mother brought for him to the hospital.

Lamar extended his hand and they shook. "It's good to meet you."

"Yeah," said Sam. "Same."

Lamar exchanged introductions with Kyle and even gave Hannah a small hug and condolences, both of which she accepted.

"Are we ready?" asked Clay.

They all nodded...everyone except Sam. They glanced at him, and when he met their gaze, he nodded, too.

"Yeah, let's go."

A small breeze blew down through the trees as they entered the cemetery. Jessica shivered and covered herself. Kyle offered her his jacket, being more used to chilly weather, but she declined.

"Why is it just us?" Jason asked as they walked. "Why aren't we doing this with more people?"  
"Because," Marla responded, shooting him an annoyed look, "this doesn't involve anyone else. People in this town still think her dad was crazy. They don't need to know about this. We're Charlie's closest friends, so this is just between all of us. Understand?"

"But-" Jason protested, earning him the most solemn look he'd ever seen in his half sister's eyes.

"Jason, I'm deadly serious. Keep this to yourself. Understand?"

He didn't say anything. He looked back at her, dumbfounded for a few moments. He turned to the others, some of whom had noticed the commotion. He met Lamar's gaze. Lamar gave him a nod.

"Okay," said Jason. "I won't tell anyone else."

Marla raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm serious! I won't say anything. I promise!"

Marla nodded and urged him on.

After a few more minutes, they finally reached the pair of tombstones they'd been looking for. The one had Henry's name on it and the other had Charlie's. They all stopped about ten feet away, afraid to get too close.

Finally, Jessica stepped forward. She approached Charlie's tombstone and rested her hand on it, unsure of what to say. _What can I even say? There's so much I still don't even understand!_

"Charlie…" she said in a choked voice, turning to face the group. "Charlie was a very dear friend of us all...or at least _most _of us." She gave a quick nod to Kyle. "I know I'm nothing special amongst us, but as her former roommate, I think I can honestly say that I've seen many more mysteries of the endless sea of clothes and spare robotic parts than any of you can possibly imagine!"

They all chuckled, though John's laugh sounded somewhat forced. Jessica cleared her throat, the momentary humor on her face fading away once again.

"No, Charlie was much more than a friend, she was like a sister to me, a much messier, mysterious, and loving sister whom I always admired for stopping and taking the time to think about the world. Like the rest of us, I'd give anything to see her again now, but I know she's truly in a better place now, and should I ever forget that, I'm hoping her brother will always be there to remind me." She locked eyes with Sam and gave a weak smile. With an increasing heart rate, he felt himself return the gesture.

Marla walked up next and placed the bouquet of flowers near the grave. She didn't say much. Sam could tell that she wanted to say more but was fighting back tears. She talked about how she and Charlie kept in touch often while they were apart over the years, and about the visit she made to see Charlie when they were twelve. After struggling through her final moments with Charlie in John's bedroom that day, she joined the rest of the group. Carlton came next. He talked about how clever Charlie was, how grateful he was for her saving him from that suit he'd spent hours being trapped in, unsure of whether or not he was going to die. He shared a few childhood memories they'd spent together with Michael. When Lamar stepped up, he mentioned how he and Charlie had a small heart-to-heart before they parted ways after the night at Freddy's. He'd admitted to her that he was a little nervous about going back home, returning to his normal life and then going to college. After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to adapt back into regular life, if he would at all. Charlie had reminded him of how brave he always was as a child, and how she had looked up to him for his fearlessness, like the time in kindergarten when she thought the cafeteria's heating duct had a monster inside it and he offered to charge in and slay it for her, which ended with a playful fight with John over who would be the one to fight for her honor. He ended with a remorseful statement about not being here during her final moments, but that he wished her the best.

All eyes turned to Sam. He met their gaze nervously and slowly walked up to the grave. He placed a hand on the tombstone. It was surprisingly warm given the weather. Perhaps it was the heat from Jessica's hands earlier. When he looked down at the grave, he froze. His sister's name was still clearly etched in the stone, solidified by time. He ran his fingers across the letters just to make sure that they were real. The last time he was here, he would've given anything in the world to know that it wasn't real, that the grave nor the letters on it were just figments of his imagination. But now, all of that had changed. As his fingers glazed over the letters once more, he felt a strange sense of comfort encompass him.

He heard a small cough behind him, reminding him that he wasn't alone. He turned away from the stone and met the nine pairs of eyes that were fixated on him. He had to tell them, one way or another.

"I've never spoken at a funeral before," he admitted, "and it's been so long since I'd seen her, so I'm not sure of what to say, exactly." He glanced at John, who gave a small nod of encouragement. "Charlie was my sister, and still is. And the more I think about it...the more I realize just how good it is that she's gone."

He saw the confused looks on some of their faces.

"I miss her," he said. "I know we all do, but whether or not what the vision that I saw the other night was real, I think she was right in what she told me. For most of her life, she's been nothing but a trapped person living an empty, fake life that would have been exposed for what it was eventually anyway."

He looked back at the tombstone. The reality of what he was saying was starting to hit home. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for her, going through life thinking that everything was normal, being so accustomed to the way things are, when in fact you were, in some ways, less of a person than those around you. He shuddered, imagining what life may have been like had he been the one to be kidnapped and murdered, and then somewhat brought back to life as a robot for many years. How different life would have been. It was a fifty-fifty choice: he could've easily been the one living this pitiful life rather than his sister, and he almost was had it not been for her drawing Afton's attention toward her that night. She'd unknowingly saved him that night, and he had nothing to give back to her other than words of gratitude.

"Charlie may not be with us anymore," said Sam, turning back to the others, "but she's happy. She's in a better place, a place where she can be fully human again, and her memory will live on with us all until we see her again. Most of her life may have been nothing more than a facade, but she didn't live or die in vain. She sacrificed herself to finish what my dad began years ago, and I think she made us all better people, in one way or another."

He wasn't sure if he was even making sense or just babbling. He turned to Jessica and saw her smile with tears pouring down her face. He smiled back.

"I'm not sure what else there is to say," he said nervously, "other than I wish I could've known her in-person as well as you all did. So, I guess I'll say goodbye…" He gave one last, longing look at the tombstone. "...until we meet again."

He walked back over to the others. Kyle patted his shoulder. There was a hanging silence as Sam's words slowly sank in. A crow could be heard cawing nearby, the only break in the silence.

Finally, John handed Clay the box and stepped forward, closing the gap between himself and the stone. He stared at it longingly for a few silent minutes and then spoke.

"I have no idea where to begin," he said, turning to the rest of them. "Charlie was so much more than a friend to me, she was a _partner_. We shared a deep connection that I still can't fully understand. Even when we were in kindergarten together, I knew there was something different about her. Something that couldn't be explained. Of course, looking back on it now, I understand what it was." He swallowed hard, his nerves going haywire. "I loved her."

He stood there silently for a moment, letting it soak in. It wasn't a huge surprise to any of them at that point, especially not to Jessica or Carlton. Lamar nodded grimly, and Marla turned and began to cry into the shoulder of Jessica, who also looked very solemn. Even Jason had an uncomfortable look on his face. He remembered the playful banter between the two of them, not that he cared much at the time, but now, even he couldn't help but feel the weight of the loss.

Clay cleared his throat. "Shall we do this, John?"

John nodded and Clay stepped forward, handing him back the small box.

"I also have one final confession to make," said John anxiously. "The day I...burned what remained of her...you know, _corpse_...there was actually a part of her...or _it_...that didn't quite burn completely."

He reached into the box and pulled out a small object. Marla cried out in disbelief. In his hand was a fragment of a ceramic-type metal. Its smooth metal was charred black, though it was still recognizable to be part of a face. As Sam studied it, he saw the clear remnants of a cheek, half of a nose bridge, and a curved edge which signified where an eye had been.

"John?" asked Jessica timidly. "Is that really-?"

"Yes," said John. "It's what's left of her body."

All eyes were locked onto the metal plate as he walked over to the tombstone. He held up the piece and gave one last longing look at it before putting it back into the box. He pulled out a small metal can and opened it, turning it over and pouring out the contents into the box. The smell of gas was unmistakable.

"What's he doing?" Jessica whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Something that needs to be done," said Clay, giving a concerned glance at Hannah, who was fixated on John with tears pouring down her face.

John pulled out a match and lit it in a few tries. After a brief pause, he dropped it into the box. Immediately, the flames roared to life as John stepped back to join the others in drinking in the scene before them. The smoke was thick and black as the metallic elements surrendered themselves to the heat, vaporizing into the air. Marla resumed sobbing into Jessica's shoulder. Carlton decided after a few moments that he couldn't watch anymore and looked over to a nearby tombstone instead: Micheal Brooks. John and Sam stood side-by-side, their vision locked on the scene as the fire finally began to die down, and the smoke thinned. Sam let out a deep sigh as a strange sense of peace washed over him, working its way throughout his taxed body, while the clouds finally gave way and a stream of sunlight encompassed the town.

* * *

The diner was unusually loud. There were more children here than normal, talking and shouting excitedly about whatever it was that was on their adventurous mind. Yet, for the nine of them sitting at the large table in the corner, there was silence. The emotions from the cemetery still lingered, and no one knew how to break the ice. Jessica was staring out the window at the sunlight that was now pouring down. John's thoughtful gaze was fixated on the table. Carlton glanced around at the others, unsure of whether or not to speak, or what he would say. Nothing came to mind. Even Jason was quiet, which Marla found to be quite unusual as she continued battling back her own grief.

Finally, Kyle cleared his throat.

"So, John," he asked. "What's next for you, then?"

"I don't know," said John. "I guess I'll keep looking for work. I pretty much spent the rest of my money this last month trying to figure everything out."

"You can stay with us for the time being," said Clay. "I'm sure Carlton will enjoy the company."

"You bet," said Carlton, beaming at John. John smiled.

"Well, I have something in mind you might be interested in. There's a place back in Chicago that's looking for some writers, if you're interested, of course," Kyle offered. "My mom's friends with the owner. They're some kind of support group for people who are struggling to cope with things, and they've just recently announced that they're hiring writers because apparently some of their clients find literature healing or something. Honestly, it sounds like a pretty good gig. I'd do it myself, only I can't really write that well."

"Kyle, I think it's a little too early for any of us to make any big decisions just yet," said Clay.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I just thought of it and wanted to mention it before I forgot."

John raised his eyebrows. He was tempted to immediately decline. After all, Hurricane was where he always felt like he belonged. It was where he spent his childhood, where he, Charlie, and the others had their recent adventures, and where Charlie's resting place was. However, as he pondered it further, it also occurred to him that he probably wouldn't stand too strong a chance of getting another job in the area given the unreliable reputation he'd given himself. There was also the issue of his own sanity. He wasn't stupid; he knew deep down that his obsession with this town, specifically the memories, wasn't good for him. As painful as it would be to say goodbye to his childhood memories, it was probably the right thing to do. William Afton was gone for good, but so was Charlie, judging by Sam's hospital story. The only future that this town held for him now was an empty and miserable one staring at a tombstone.

He looked up at Kyle and nodded. "I'll think about it."

"Cool," said Kyle. "Well, let me know if you're interested."

"So, Lamar," said Carlton. "How's New Jersey been treating you?"

"Well enough," said Lamar. "School's been okay. Classes, studying, not much to tell."

"How's the dating life?" Marla teased.

"What dating life?" Lamar said with a wink. Marla giggled.

"Well, thank you both for coming," said Clay, his voice heavy. "I know it would've meant the world to her."

"How could we not?" said Marla, the sadness from the cemetery returning. "I mean, Charlie's our friend."

Clay smiled. "How long were you planning on staying, Lamar?"

"The night," he said. "I wish I could stay longer. It really is nice seeing you all again. Deep down, I needed it. But I really need to get back tomorrow."

"I'll arrange for one of my officers to take you back to the airport, then," said Clay sadly. "It's good to see you again, Lamar."

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the others. Jason nodded.

"Well, in a strange way, it's good to be back. I'm sorry again about not being here last month. If I'd known that was my last chance to see her, I…"

"None of us knew at the time," said Jessica. "It's okay, Lamar. I know she'd be happy that you're here now."

"What about you, Marla? How's school?" asked Clay.

"Fine. One of my professors has recommended me for the accelerated program. I'll be starting an internship this summer."

"Really? That's great!" exclaimed Jessica.

"Yeah, congrats, Marla!" said Carlton.

"Thanks. Just doing my best," she said, turning to Sam. "How about you, Sam? How's life for you back home?"

Sam's mind was still swimming in the vision of the burning face that he almost didn't register the question.

"Fine enough so far, I guess," he said. "Just working and playing in our free time."

"What kind of stuff do you play?" asked Lamar.

Sam shrugged. "Lots of stuff. Right now, we're just a cover band, so we try to do a little bit of everything."

"Do you write?" asked Marla.

Sam paused. With how occupied his mind was about Charlie recently, he'd forgotten about life back home, his empty life of work, and playing gigs with no material of their own. All he had was the song about Cyndi, which he had no interest in anymore. Could he perhaps use some of the recent events as a new, stronger source of inspiration?

"A little bit. Nothing noteworthy though...yet."

There was a murmur of interest, but he'd stopped paying attention. He felt Kyle's hand pat his shoulder as he continued to nibble on the sandwich he'd ordered.

Within a half an hour, they were all back at the Burkes' saying goodbye to the trio. Hannah thanked Carlton for their talk. Kyle was saying goodbye to John and Lamar while giving Jason a few tips on how to get a date, telling him to make sure she doesn't already have a boyfriend who's standing right there and also struggles with anger management.

Jessica practically threw herself upon Sam, squeezing him even tighter than the night they met at Carlton's house. He smiled and hugged her back, breathing in the sweet aroma of her shampoo. It smelled very pleasant...and almost tropical. He remembered seeing an Ocean Breeze shampoo in Carlton's bathroom. He wondered if Jessica used it at all.

"I'm gonna miss you," she said.

"Me, too," he said honestly. He noticed that there were tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure," she said, "but I think so. It's just been a long, confusing two years for me, you know? And to lose Charlie like this..." Her voice started to break.

"We'll get through this," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The confidence in his voice surprised him, but deep down, he knew it to be true, or at least he hoped. "I know we will. And if any of us are going to be the one to help pull others through, it's you. You're a strong woman."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his head. "And don't you ever forget it," she said playfully. He laughed, and before he could say anything in return, she leaned forward and planted a solid kiss on his cheek. His eyes went wide. He remembered the first time Cyndi had kissed him like that. He remembered how he thought he'd scored big. Being a young, naive teenager at the time who thought he'd found love, his excitement and stomach butterflies had trumped nearly all of his common sense, leading to a rushed and shallow relationship and all of the heartache that came with it. But this was different. As his heart pounded with joy in his chest, he felt a strange feeling of comfort envelop him. Jessica wasn't Cyndi. She was Jessica, someone who actually cared about him rather than what he may or may not be in the future. He admired her courage and her determination to do what was right. In the short time they'd known each other, they'd opened up to each other about so many personal memories. He trusted her, and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she felt the same.

"Sorry," he said apologetically as he noticed the confused look in her eyes. "I'm...not sure what to say."

"It's okay," she said, wrapping him in another tight embrace. "Stay safe."

He smiled. "You, too."

"You'll come and visit us, won't you?" Carlton asked optimistically as they broke apart.

Sam looked to his mother, who sighed.

"I don't see myself coming back here again," she said, "but Sam's an adult. He can make his own decisions."

"I'll see what I can do," said Sam, turning to Clay. "I'm not sure how often."

"I'll let you know when we're having our next little get-together," said Clay with a smile. Sam returned it. He couldn't wait.

"You're welcome to come along, too, Kyle," Clay said.

"Alright!" Kyle exclaimed with excitement. "I gotta say, I didn't think I'd grow so attached to a town like this, but I'm up for it. Besides, Carlton and I still have to finish that movie."

"It's really nothing too special," Carlton laughed. "Spoilers, one of them dies."

"I wish you guys could stay longer," said Marla.

"Me, too," said Sam truthfully, "but life calls, you know?"

"You might see me again," said Lamar. "I was gonna visit my dad this summer. He lives in the Chicago area. I'll see if I can look you up."

Sam nodded and turned to John.

"John," he said solemnly, leaning in. "Charlie wanted me to tell you something: she loves you, too."

John's eyes widened. His mouth hung open, twitching slightly. After a few seconds, he closed it and nodded, extending a hand. Sam grabbed it and pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks for everything, John," he said. "Thanks for being there for her."

John chuckled. "It was entirely my pleasure." They broke apart. "Will you be okay, though?"

"Yeah, I think so," said Sam. John smiled.

"Well, we'd best be going," said Hannah. "Our flight leaves in an hour."

With one final goodbye, Clay led the three of them into the car. Hannah rode with Clay up front while Sam and Kyle sat in the back.

"It feels so weird going home," said Kyle. "So much has happened since we came that part of me is really gonna miss the excitement."

Sam grunted in agreement. He was only half-listening. His mind was still swimming with vague thoughts and lost feelings that had begun to surface. Although his body was already healing at a good pace, his mind was still struggling.

"Are you okay?" asked Kyle.

Sam turned away from the scenery. Kyle was looking at him in his usual concerned way, the one that had become much more frequent ever since the recent events had begun the night Clay had shown up in their lives. He turned back to the window and set his gaze upon the midday sun shining down on the beautiful mountain scenery. He looked up and saw a crow flying alongside them for a few moments, cawing happily, before turning and disappearing up into the blue sky. He vaguely remembered that Charlie liked crows, thinking they were funny. His mind suddenly flashed back to a certain detail he'd forgotten about and he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, looking for something that resembled a pocket watch. He smiled when he felt his fingers curl around the curved metal inside.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

THE END.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it, folks! Once again, a big thank you for your patience.

This story's certainly been a long, tiring journey for me, much more than I would've imagined back when I started writing it a year ago. On that note, as irritating as the long waits have been with these last few chapters, it so happens that today is the one-year anniversary of when I first posted. Fitting, isn't it? I knew I simply had to finish by no later than today.

Unfortunately, my perfectionism really slowed me down as time went on. The first half of the story was so much easier to write when all I had to do was keep setting everything up and not having to worry about the climax, but when it came time to actually fit all of my loose ideas into something that was both interesting to read and made at least some sense to the continuity, that was much harder! For these last few chapters, in particular, almost every sentence was re-written at least once. Between that and losing more of my energy and interest in the story as time went on, there were some bad periods of writer's block. All of that said, I want to personally thank everyone who took the time to review and encourage me to keep going. I can honestly say that if it weren't for you, I probably would've given up on finishing this story a while back.

Like I said at the beginning, this story is basically my idea of a potential fourth installment of the series that I hoped could better tie off the loose ends and incorporate Charlie's brother Sam into the picture given that he's been alive the entire time. Some of you may like it, others may not, but it's what I have to offer. I really hope you enjoyed reading it because I did enjoy writing it (when I was motivated to do so). And with that...take care and stay safe!


	21. Epilogue

As he pulled into his apartment complex, he was almost taken aback by how different it looked. The walls had been washed and repainted ghostly white, decorated by hanging plants every ten feet between doors. He shook his head, completely aghast at what he was seeing.

_Am I in the right place?_

It hadn't been too long since he'd been here, but long enough. The memories began to flood back, but he pushed them from his mind. It was done. He wanted nothing more than to move on. He found himself considering the offer he'd been given only hours before. It was a bit of a leap, but perhaps it might be his path forward after all. He'd certainly need some time to mull it over, along with everything else. Nothing had changed there. He was still as quiet and thoughtful in the eyes of others as he'd always been, especially in recent months.

He parked his car and walked cautiously up to his door. There was a piece of paper taped on it. He pulled it off and read it.

_You're late on your rent. I'm going to need it by the end of the week, or else I'll have to kick you out. You can give it to me tomorrow._

_Delia._

_P.S. I decided to give plants a try. I think I like them._

He chuckled, turning to look at the plants that hung from their hooks, leaves fluttering in the cool breeze. In a way, they did seem to add a sense of life to the otherwise dull atmosphere.

He took his key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock. He felt the stubborn lock fight against his hand before giving way and the door swung open. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, whether he was going to stay for a few more months or leave the next day. He had no clue, but at the moment, his energy was gone. All he wanted was to lay down somewhere and sleep.

As he looked up from the doorway, he nearly jumped upon noticing a woman standing in his living room with her back to him, gazing off into the distance. Upon hearing the door close, she turned to face him.

"Am I intruding?" she asked sweetly, her beaming smile sending mixed signals to his brain.

"No," he said calmly. "Not at all."

"Good," she said, sitting down on the couch, "because there's one last thing we need to talk about."

* * *

The sun was setting when he stepped out of his car, casting an orange glow on the sleepy town. He took a second to admire the view. He hadn't really had the time to do so lately with how busy he'd been. Even now, after everything was hopefully over, he was being called in to investigate something that had been found in the burning wreckage. He'd been told that it was...unusual, to say the least.

The lab contained three detectives, all of whom were gathered around a table, hovering over something and arguing amongst themselves. When they looked up and saw him enter, they backed away.

"They just found it," one of them said. "It looks foreign, nothing like anything our guys have seen before."

He looked down at the jar containing a brown liquid. He reached down and picked up the jar to investigate further. The liquid was thick and murky, and even through the glass, he could detect a strong odor.

"Any indication of what it could be?" he asked.

"Negative," replied one of the detectives.

He continued examining it, racking his brain for possibilities, when he suddenly remembered something that he'd been told, a small detail that he'd originally overlooked. He set the jar down on the table as if it were contagious.

"I think we'll need to call in some professionals for this one," he said.

* * *

He watched almost hypnotically as the newest storm to come off of the lake raged outside, the heavy rain pounding against the window. Each flash of lightning gave him a flash image, a solid reminder of everything that had happened, both good and bad. It was humid. The storm was the more likely culprit, but he could've sworn that the heat had followed him.

As another flash lit up the night sky, he could faintly make out a silhouette against the clouds. It was tall and bulky, looking like it had to be at least eight feet tall. It could've just been his imagination, a trick of the brain, but he was also certain he saw a pair of white eyes glaring at him.

And then, out of nowhere came that familiar dark voice.

_You realize I'm not done with you yet?_

He felt the urge to scream in terror, as he no doubt would've done a week ago, but he didn't. Instead, a deep sense of indignation enveloped him. He was sick of being the victim, lost in a sea of deception and agony. He'd survived once and knew how the game worked and was more determined than ever to be stronger when and if he had to face the fire once again.

_Yes_, he thought, _but next time, I'll be ready for you._

A loud snarl echoed inside his head, and then it was gone. He breathed a heavy sigh as he turned away from the window and drifted off to sleep.


	22. AN: My Thoughts & Theories

Greetings everybody.

I've been debating on whether or not to do this for some time, but given the feedback and suggestions that I've received throughout this story as well as some new revelations to official FNAF lore from Scott, I figured it might not hurt to clarify a few things about my story. After all, I'm not Scott Cawthon. Although I certainly wanted to challenge myself as a writer with this story, my end goal was just a better sense of closure to the series, not to make things even more confusing by getting mixed up in all of the confusing aspects of the lore. Hopefully, I succeeded, and you were able to follow the story okay without getting too confused, but for those who have questions about where I stand on certain controversial aspects of the lore or why I wrote something the way I did, please allow me to explain my thought process as best as I can. There are also a few other things I wanted to address. ***Also, for those who maybe haven't read any of the books or played all of the games, SPOILER ALERT.***

First of all, my story assumes that the novel trilogy is a standalone series as advertised, meaning even though it may still be a FNAF series that shares ideas with the games, it is set in a different continuity than both the games as well as the newer Fazbear Frights series. When the first novel came out and was met with some disappointment over not being directly tied to the games, Scott clearly stated that it was intended to be enjoyed as a separate continuity. In some of the Game Theorists' more recent FNAF videos, MatPat has noted many similarities between the games and novels, which makes sense given that they're both created by the same person. However, despite these shared ideas, it still stands to say that the books are indeed separate from the games, with _The Fourth Closet _being the official end to this particular storyline with nothing planned to continue it on Scott's end.

That said, my story also assumes that William Afton and Circus Baby are both, in fact, dead. I'll say upfront that I was never too fond of the idea of making Afton immortal and somehow surviving the blaze. In the final book, we see the trapped children being freed and Afton burning in flames, very similar to what we see in _Pizzeria Simulator_, which I think is a fitting end to the game series. In my mind, this perfectly symbolizes Afton finally meeting his fate in hell, and having him somehow survive even that makes any other attempted ending to his story pointless as there would always be doubt over those alleged deaths, too. The exact same goes for Elizabeth. While having both her and Charlie still be alive might make an interesting fourth story, who's to say any other way I or anyone else finds to kill her off would be permanent? She and Afton may both be fierce and powerful villains, but not unkillable. As Jessica reminds us in the final book...everybody dies.

Which brings us to Charlie. Figuring out what to do about Charlie was, without a doubt, the most challenging part of the story, as well as the most controversial, given some of my reviews. I would have loved to have Charlie live again in the flesh. In fact, one of the early story ideas was to actually have both her and Elizabeth survive the incident with Henry's suicide robot. Charlie would meet John and they would perhaps go into hiding together while Elizabeth, fueled with anger and hatred, would try to lure her out of hiding by somehow tracking Sam down, and this would eventually lead to their meeting. An interesting idea with some potential, but I ultimately decided against it for the aforementioned reasons.

*Also, on a quick technical sidenote, I am aware of the discrepancy between Charlie's birthyear being 1980 and her age of seventeen in the first book, which is supposed to take place in 1995. As a quick fix, I simply set everything two years later, with the first book taking place in 1997. I realize the significance of the year 1985 from Fazbear Frights, but I figured it would be more familiar for fans of the games if the restaurant actually went out of business in 1987 instead.*

The way I see it, Charlie needs closure, too. Personally, I actually find it difficult to buy Elizabeth's line about the Charlie we know being nothing more than a robot with no soul. This is a fictional world involving human souls being trapped inside lifelike yet still lifeless bodies. Remnant, Scott's newest addition to the lore, may be able to provide the animatronics themselves with a certain type of power (though I'm still not sure exactly what in this confusing universe), but I think that it would still take an actual soul to actually bring them to life the way that they do. The main animatronics seen in the first book had souls, which carried over into the third book. Circus Baby had a soul herself, making her a combination of her raw capabilities (the rage she spoke of) and the little girl trapped inside. After much self-debate, I eventually decided that my running theory was that the real Charlie's soul was indeed residing in her robot bodies, alive yet connected to her fake bodies in such a way that she was still limited in certain ways, mainly her memories. The idea was that the form of remnant used on her the night of her kidnapping was an inferior, early version that didn't work as well as it was supposed to, and since she didn't actually die from impalement, her soul wouldn't necessarily latch onto the nearest animatronic suit (Afton's) but rather found its way home and into another. While Scott more than likely thought differently, I was never really a fan of the idea of the Charlie we know from the books not being authentic. As a result, this story assumes that even though Charlie and Elizabeth's robot bodies may be alive and sentient to a certain degree, whether from love, desperation, or rage, there is still a soul inside, hidden so deeply that even Henry and Aunt Jen didn't fully understand what was before them.

As far as remnant is concerned, I have mixed feelings. This mysterious substance has been the cause of some confusion and debate among fans. While it's been given more backstory in the new Fazbear Frights series, it was first featured in somewhat vivid detail in the final novel. I admit I had no idea where to go with it and ultimately chose not to get too involved in the fine details that I leave to Scott. With most, if not all, of Afton's experiments involving heat, I chose to focus more on this aspect, using the symbolic and literary references to fire being both a creative and a destructive force, with the ability to destroy some things and purify others. That is why Charlie and Elizabeth's bodies were burned the way that they were. The intended image was that the same force that created their robotic bodies, fire and heat, was also what put them to rest and allowed the souls to finally be free, similar to how _Pizzeria Simulator_ ended. From a suspenseful standpoint, simply burning their bodies so easily seems like a lazy way to do it, I admit, but as I previously mentioned, my story takes the role of simply being an epilogue to the main events of the novel trilogy. I realize that it's all a bit sketchy, but regardless of what I come up with, creating my own explanations in this crazy lore will always be questionable to some, especially since involving myself too deeply in the lore was never my intention.

As I've said, when I finished reading _The Fourth Closet_, my main concerns were (1) Carlton, Jessica, Clay, and Marla being left in the hospital with no closure on Charlie and (2) Sammy's absence from the story in light of his survival of the 1982 Halloween incident at Fredbear's. As such, I wanted to write something that focused mainly on Sammy, and how his presence in the story helps both himself and the others fully come to terms with everything, particularly with Charlie.

I'll admit, I'm nowhere near as creative in the science fiction realm as Scott is, so I took the story in a more familiar and realistic direction: battling with grief and depression, which, like Nightmare, can take on many forms. The games and books portray William Afton as this unstoppable and possibly unkillable mastermind, but I wanted to remind myself that he's still just a man and toy with the idea of something even more powerful being behind his insanity, one that fights its battles entirely in the mind and likes to hide and wait for the right time to strike. This was the idea that started it all: what if Sam finally got to meet this dark entity ultimately responsible for his sister's death and his father's demise? In order to fully capitalize on this idea, there has to be a temporary break of friendship and trust with a loved one and/or close friend, which is where Kyle comes in. When you really look at it, Kyle's the real hero of the story, intentionally created to be the underestimated comic relief with no prior connection to FNAF who ends up being the one to destroy Afton's final standing creations and save Sam's life. Of course, Nightmare doesn't just go away so easily after one battle, but now Sam has a new source of hope going forward, a promise that he and the others will get to be with Charlie again one day.

And on that note: I know that some readers still really wanted to see Charlie alive and actually able to be with her friends. Believe me, even as I was writing, I continued wrestling with the possibilities of bringing her back, but as I said before, given my belief that her soul really was inside that fake body, it's better this way in the long run. I think I speak for many fellow fans when I say that the twist about Charlie was both surprising and a little disheartening, too. The best way to have Charlie be alive is to actually rewrite one or more of the books like authors whitehandweasel and Fanatic97 are doing. However, to fully accept the novels as they are and continue from the ending as written, I think the best thing to do with Charlie is to let her go rather than try to hold onto her in her robot form. To me, it's basically another example of the "immortality is a curse" argument. If she were still alive as a fake, sure everyone would be happy now, but what about later when they grow up and leave her behind in her teenage body? I've re-read her final moments with Elizabeth a few times, and honestly, she seems pretty determined to end everything once she knows the truth, and I find it doubtful she'd want to continue living like that. At least this way, everyone can rest assured that they will be together with her again one day in a much better place, just like with the original victims from Freddy's. The goodbye is only temporary.

So that's my story behind the story. I know it's not what some people wanted to see from a continuation of the novels, but I hoped that at least some people would enjoy it. Not to be a broken record, but I would once again like to personally thank everyone who took the time to read this story and leave a review. As I may have mentioned in some of my author's notes, I actually struggle with OCD and perfectionism, which is another major reason why my updates began to slow down as the story got further along. It's amazing what motivation you can get from positive reinforcement. In fact, if there's a moral to end with here, it would be that sometimes the best source of power can be encouragement.

This story really was a rollercoaster for me. I hope you enjoyed it, and am completely open to any more feedback. The lore, while confusing, is still very interesting and I would love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks again, everyone, and take care.


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